


At John Winchester's Request

by Michea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michea/pseuds/Michea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 1, a tangent taken approximately half-way through the season:  John sends Jo Harvelle's cousin Jennifer to join the boys, much to their disgust.</p><p>This was originally supposed to be Part 1 but I never got around to finishing Part 2, and given how far Supernatural has come since Season 1, I probably never will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At John Winchester's Request

**  
_Introductions_   
**

**  
  
**

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Jennifer made her way through the parking lot.  She trailed her fingers lightly over the hood of the jet-black Chevy Impala and, clutching the hammered-silver amulet around her neck; she pushed open the door of the roadhouse.

 

“John Winchester, you’d better be right about this,” she muttered as she spotted her quarry over by the bar. 

 

Two young men, both handsome, each in their own way.  Both confident and sure of themselves.  Both hunters like Jennifer.  John Winchester’s boys – Sam and Dean.

 

The looks on their faces told her John had already been in touch.

 

#          #          #

 

“‘She’s a good hunter, boys, as good as either of you, so show a little respect’,“ Dean read over his brother’s shoulder.  “Hell, Sammy, we don’t need this!”  Sam reread his father’s letter, ignoring Dean for the time being.  He stared into the mirror behind the bar, not really seeing his own reflection. 

 

Two days ago they’d received a text message from their father – coordinates, pointing them to a small town in Maine; and the number of a post office box, which contained the letter he was now holding.  The letter, whose contents Dean was cursing over, was dated a month ago.  It pointed them to this place, on this day.

 

Apparently, John Winchester felt his sons needed a little help of the feminine persuasion. Dean was right: they didn’t need this.

 

“Okay, so take me through it again.  From the start.”  Dean demanded.  Sam rolled his eyes and read aloud from the letter.

 

 _“Boys_

 _Be at Logan’s roadhouse in Falmouth, Maine on Sunday 22 March._

 _I am sending Jennifer Harvelle, the daughter of an old friend of mine to join you.  She was raised like you, and trained like you and I want her to help you._

 _She’s a good hunter, boys, as good as either of you, so show a little respect._

 _I know I’ve made myself scarce lately but I want you to know, it’s for a reason, and I will be in touch._

 _Dad.”_

“Sorry dude, that didn’t tell me _squat_ ,” said Dean, stalking away again.

 

“Yeah, well, it seems pretty clear to me.  Dad wants this girl to join us.  Help us…” for what reason?  Sam finished inside his head.

 

“We don’t need help from some chick!  We don’t even know who she is!”

 

“Looks like we’re about to find out,” said Sam, nodding toward the door of the roadhouse.

 

#          #          #

 

“Here goes nothing,” Jen thought, squaring her shoulders.  She approached the young men at the bar.  Two pairs of hostile eyes regarded her.  She chose the least-hostile option.

 

“Dean Winchester?” She asked.

“Uh, no, I’m Sam, this is Dean.  You must be Jennifer.”  Sam shook her hand firmly and through a curtain of floppy hair, his eyes, though guarded, were making an effort to be kind.  Dean’s eyes, however, were making no effort whatsoever.  The hostility was mingled with the tell-tale leer of a born womanizer, and either way, Jen wanted no part of it.  She directed her conversation towards Sam, occasionally flicking her eyes towards Dean.  She wasn’t trying to be coy, she just wanted to gauge his proximity, temper and the possibility that she may need to make a fast getaway. 

 

“Look, Jennifer,” Sam was saying.  “I don’t know what our dad told you, but we don’t really need your help.  We kinda work alone, you know?  Just the two of us?”  Here he glanced at Dean, who nodded in agreement.  “So…”

 

“So we’re not going to waste our time babysitting some kid from Maine.  We’ve got work to do,” Dean cut in.  Sam winced at his brother’s tone.

 

“What he means is, what we do is pretty dangerous, and we wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” Sam said.  Seeing the look on her face, he realised an instant too late he may have made things worse.

 

“You wouldn’t want me to get hurt, huh?”  Jen said, trying to contain her annoyance.  “Well, thanks for that Sam, but I can take care of myself.  What’s more,” she went on, rounding on Dean.  “Your father sent me to join you, so it looks like you’re stuck ‘babysitting’ me whether you like it or not.”

 

Dean started to shake his head, and Jen continued:

“You know, your father always said _you_ were the compliant one,” she told him.  His thunderstruck expression was well worth the patronizing bullshit she’d just endured.  She excused herself, hiding a smile.

 

“Compliant one?!”  Dean spluttered, turning on Sam as Jen headed towards the ladies room.

 

Sam grinned at him.  “I like her!”  He said.

 

#          #          #

 

Alone in the pokey bathroom, the smile slipped off Jennifer’s face.

 

“Way to make a first impression, Jen,” she groaned at her reflection.  “This is going to be one unfun roadtrip if they think I’m some smart-mouthed bitch from Hicksville.”

 

“Hon, you _are_ a smart-mouthed bitch from Hicksville,” said her mother’s voice inside her head.  The gentle tone softened the harsh words.  “After all, you’re my daughter.”  Jen sighed and touched the silver amulet around her neck, imagining her mother standing right behind her.  “Just don’t let those boys push you around – you show them whose boss.”

 

“Right Momma,” Jen murmured as she splashed water on her face.

 

#          #          #

 

“Oh, shut up Sammy, it wasn’t that funny,” snapped Dean.

 

“She’s right about one thing though.  We’re pretty much stuck with her.”  Sam sobered at the thought of watching out for not one but two people from now on.  Watching Dean’s back was one thing, he’d been hunting demons and other nasties for 22 years.  But this girl?  All they had was their father’s assurance that she knew as much as they did.  Sam was willing to take John’s word for it on some things, but not this one.  How old was she anyway, 17?  18, tops?  Hell.

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 **  
_Lycanthropectomy_   
**

**  
  
**

They’d been traveling together for a week, following up on a few dead-end leads, getting restless, waiting for something to happen. 

 

Dean noticed that Sam seemed to find it easier to accept the interloper – he certainly seemed to find her easy to talk to. 

 

When he could find a way to strike up a conversation, Dean surreptitiously quizzed her on her knowledge of the supernatural.  Even he had to admit, her knowledge was pretty extensive.  Of course all the theory in the world didn’t mean squat once you were faced with a real, live demon (or a real dead zombie, ha ha), but Dean didn’t have any intention of letting one anywhere near Jennifer.  It was hard enough covering your own butt without having to look out for (and possibly come to the rescue of) a shrieking girl who’d lost her head.

 

They were stopped in yet another tiny backwater, of yet another Middle American town, looking into a spate of disappearances.  No locals, just transients.  Road trippers passing through.  Well, Sam was looking into them, anyway.

 

Dean watched Jen out of the corner of his eye as she ran through her warm-up exercises.  Her technique was good, he admitted.  His ribs still ached from a couple of days ago when he’d patronizingly (and foolishly, as it turned out) volunteered to assist her with her judo throws. 

 

She wasn’t that bad to look at, either.  Thick, dark hair.  Pretty eyes which couldn’t seem to decide if they were green or hazel.  Killer body, come to think of it, anyone could see how hard she worked to keep it that way, all that running and kickboxing and judo.  Too bad she was jailbait.  Not worth it.

 

“Now that,” Dean murmured, his eyes following a voluptuous (and obviously legal) local.  “That’s worth it.”  He started after the beauty with the twitching hips, when his cell phone rang.  “Aw, gees….  Dude.  Your timing sucks.”

 

“I think I found something,” came Sam’s disembodied voice.

 

#          #          #

 

Jennifer watched Dean out of the corner of her eye as she finished her warm ups and moved into her patterns.  She rolled her eyes without breaking her rhythm as he started after the bimbo in the short skirt, then watched him pull up sharply as his cell phone rang.

 

“Kid!  Hey, kid, we gotta go meet Sam!”  Dean called to her, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

 

“Jen,” replied Jennifer.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Its Jen, or Jennifer.  Not kid.  How old do you think I _am_ , Dean?”

 

“I dunno.  16?  17?”  Then, noting her furious expression: “18?” he ventured.

 

“I’m 22, Dean.  Old enough to drink.  Old enough to vote.  Old enough to kick your butt if you call me ‘kid’ again, got it?”

 

“Okay, okay, _Jen_ , lets go.” 

 

“By the way, Sam hates it when you call him ‘Sammy’ too.”

 

Dean grinned.  “Yeah, I know.  That’s… kinda why I do it.”

 

“Jerk,” she muttered under her breath as she followed him to the car.

 

#          #          #

 

Later that evening…

 

Even Dean had to admit the situation was going to hell in a handbasket.  _How_ , exactly, had they come to be tied up and held captive by a couple of werewolves??

 

#          #          #

 

Jennifer peered through the window, taking in Sam and Dean tied to chairs in the spacious kitchen of the farmhouse, and the two werewolves stalking around them.  The ‘wolves were still technically human, not having yet transformed.  Jennifer checked her watch.  Five minutes before midnight.  She’d have to work quickly.

 

Earlier, the brothers had allowed her to “sit in” on their research into this hunt, but had drawn the line at allowing her to come with them (and considering their present predicament, that might have been a blessing in disguise).  In spite of her protestations (or perhaps because of them), they had left for the farmhouse without telling her.

 

After the obligatory (and rather satisfying) half a minute of swearing and calling them every name under the sun, Jennifer pulled herself together and hacked into the laptop they’d left lying on the motel room table.  Not difficult, considering what creatures of habit those two were.  The password was the second one she’d tried:  Mary1.

 

From what Sam had been able to piece together, the werewolves lived as a human couple, and only transformed between midnight and 6am during the full moon.  They didn’t seem interested in “recruiting”, as Sam put it. (“You mean biting innocent people and sharing the love,” Dean had said.)  They were only interested in feeding.  The two had managed to cover their tracks fairly well; it was only after being pointed in the right direction by John, and some exhaustive digging around, that Sam had been able to come up with the human identities of the couple.  And an address.

 

And so, after checking their supply of silver bullets, they had tricked Jennifer into leaving the motel room (a phony phone call in the motel lobby from their father – how could she have fallen for _that?_ If John wanted to contact her, he’d have called her cell phone _)_ and disappeared into the night.

 

Still cursing their names, she “borrowed” another car from the parking lot (and fair enough if you’re going to leave your keys in the ignition, you have to expect you car will be “borrowed” from time to time) and after getting lost on the lonely back roads a couple of times, she found the Impala, and the farmhouse lair of the ‘wolves.

 

Tucking the silver-laden .45 into the back of her jeans (and grumbling again, this time over not having time to change into proper hunting attire) Jennifer slung the two garlands of mistletoe over her shoulder, rechecked the boys’ position and prepared to enter the house.  She’d have a few seconds as the metamorphosis took place to set herself and be ready to fight.

 

#          #          #

 

The female began twitching first.

 

Dean signaled Sam with his eyes, and lifted his chin the female’s direction.  Sam checked on her and shot him a look that said “I see it dude, but what do you want me to do about it?”

 

Dean’s eyes said “don’t ask me, just letting you know.”

 

By this time, the male had begun twitching as well.  Transformation could take anything from a few seconds to several minutes, and Dean wasn’t even close to untying the knot that held his ropes together.  Across the room, Sam’s struggles against his own ropes became more obvious, and Dean wished he could reach the knife he’d strapped to his ankle.

 

“This is just perfect,” thought Dean.  “Tied up by a coupla ‘wolves – we’re gonna end up as dog food.”

 

The female’s transformation was nearing completion, (“God, that was fast!”  Dean thought dimly) when he caught a movement from the other side of the room.  The kitchen window was thrown open and Jennifer sprang into the room.  She dropped what looked like a Christmas wreath over Sam’s head and with a practiced flick of the wrist, tossed a similar wreath across the room, landing it perfectly over his own head.  In spite of the danger, not to mention the absurdity of the situation, Dean noticed a tiny smile of satisfaction on Jen’s lips.  He was sure if she’d had time she’d have pumped a fist and yelled “yes!”

 

The werewolves, now completely transformed, were impossible to tell apart.  One of them had begun to close in on Dean, but as the wreath dropped onto his shoulders it recoiled as though repelled by a nasty stench.  Jennifer paused a moment to take aim and shot it through the heart. 

 

The other werewolf had decided Jennifer was the main target now, and advanced on her as the .45 bucked in her hand.

 

“Jen!”  Sam screamed the warning as the ‘wolf came up behind her.  In a blur of motion, she executed a perfect turning crescent kick, landing it squarely across the werewolf’s muzzle.  As it staggered back, she took aim again, and killed the second wolf as neatly as she’s killed the first.  She let out a shaky breath as the ‘wolves began to transform back into humans – a sure sign they were dead.  Without a word, she began untying first Sam, then Dean, and lifted the garlands from their shoulders.

 

“Mistletoe,” she said, slinging them over her shoulder again.  “Let’s get out of here before someone reports those gun shots.”  She located the front door and headed back to the car she’d borrowed.  They’d need a little time to sort themselves out before facing her, she decided.

 

A shocked Dean was still sitting in the chair he’d been tied to.  He turned to face his brother.  “Dude, did we just get rescued by a _girl?”_

 

#          #          #

 

Ensconced in one of the booths towards the rear of the bar, the boys continued to cast sidelong glances in Jennifer’s direction until she couldn’t take it any longer. ****

“Look, will one of you just say something!  Stop looking at me like I’m the second coming, okay?”  She blurted.

 

Sam glanced at Dean, and then took the lead.  “How did you know to use mistletoe?”

 

“What, you think that was the first time I’ve hunted a werewolf?”  Jen pretended not to see the identical looks of surprise on the brother’s faces.  She’d saved their bacon tonight.  She knew it, they knew it, and they could stew in their own juices for a while.  It’d serve them right for underestimating her.

 

“So where’d you learn to hunt?  Your dad…”

 

“Not my dad,” Jen cut in.  “I never knew my dad.  From what I can gather, my mom didn’t really know my dad either…. no, don’t look like that!”  She caught the knowing look on Dean’s face.  “My mom wasn’t some truck-stop whore, she just fell for a handsome charmer who only stayed one night…” she trailed off, realizing as she said it that this pretty much described Dean’s way of doing things.  She cast a sidelong glance in his direction and was gratified to see him looking a little uncomfortable.

 

“Anyways,” she continued.  “My dad, whoever he was, only stuck around for the fun bit.  I was raised by my mom.  My uncle and aunt, that’s my mom’s brother and his wife, were around to help as well.  My Uncle Billy was a hunter – he used to hunt with your dad, did you know that?”

 

Both boys shook their heads.  Dean opened his mouth the challenge her on this point, but Sam cut him off.

 

“Your Uncle Billy _was_ a hunter?  You mean…”

 

“I mean he died when my cousin Jo and I were just kids.”

 

“How?”

“He was hunting.  It was an evil spirit – I don’t really know the details,” she said, averting her eyes.  She omitted the part about John Winchester being responsible for Bill Harvelle’s death – it had been an accident, and neither Sam nor Dean needed to know about any of it.

 

“My Uncle Billy was teaching me and Jo about demons.  Momma and Aunt Ellen weren’t crazy about the idea, but what can you do?  And after Uncle Billy died, well, your dad was around the place from time to time, plus there were always other hunters coming and going – I pretty much thought that’s what people _did_ until Aunt Ellen and Momma tried to put me and Jo in school.”  Jen smiled at the memory of cutting classes with Jo to meet up with Gordon or Ash and do some _real_ learning.

 

“You spent a lot of time with my dad?  He never mentioned you, and I think I would’ve noticed him running off to play daddy to someone else.”  Dean looked hurt and skeptical at the same time.

 

“Not necessarily – don’t you remember your dad leaving you and Sam by yourselves, or with someone else, for days at a time?  You know, when you were old enough to take care of yourselves?  For what it’s worth, he didn’t talk much about you boys either.”  Jen told him.

 

“So what about the ‘he always said you were the compliant one’ crack?  Where did that come from?”

 

“You still worried about that?”  Jen smiled.  “He didn’t exactly say that.  He just said you always did what had to be done without questioning too much, and Sam… Well, Sam could be a pain in the ass.”

 

“That’s for sure”, Dean agreed, cracking a smile for the first time.

 

“What about your mom?”  Asked Sam, glaring at Dean.

 

“She died too, a few years ago.”  Jennifer touched her amulet.

 

“Another…?”

 

“Nope, just plain old, garden variety cancer.  We didn’t see John for a few years, and in the meantime I took on a few small hunts myself.  He came back a few months ago and took me with him on a job – poltergeist – and I guess he was surprised how far I’d progressed on my own.  Then I got this letter from him, telling me to find you guys and, well, the rest you know.”

 

They sipped their beers in silence for a while, and then Dean said:  “So, what was with that flashy little kick back there?  Why didn’t you just waste that second ‘wolf straight away?  You lost valuable seconds for the sake of a show-off move.”

 

Jennifer bristled.  “I wasn’t doing it to show off, I needed time to line up my shot!”  She said.  “It was coming too fast.”

 

Dean shrugged.  “ _I_ could’ve made that shot,” he said.  Jen narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Well, maybe I’m not as good a shot as you are, _Dino_ ,” she shot back.

 

“We’re probably lucky she didn’t hit one of _us_ with a silver bullet,” he told Sam, sneering.

 

“You arrogant son of a bitch!  I saved both your asses tonight, and you know it!”

 

“Oh please,” said Dean.  “I had a plan…”

 

“What was your plan, Dean?  To get eaten and give the ‘wolves a deadly case of indigestion?”  Jennifer snapped, half-rising from her seat.

 

“Woah, woah!”  Sam cut in, half-standing himself to lay a hand on Jennifer’s arm.  He nodded in the direction of a bunch of barflies who’d developed in interest in their increasingly heated conversation.  “Calm down,” he told her.  “Dean didn’t mean…”

 

“Oh, of course he did!”  Jennifer snapped, rounding on Sam.  “I don’t need this crap, I was better off bussing tables at the roadhouse – I got more respect for starters.”  She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

 

“Okay, see ya, don’t forget to write!”  Dean called, waving cheerfully, his eyes ice cold.

 

“Nice going, Dean,” said Sam, jumping up to follow Jennifer.

#          #          #

“Jen!  Hey wait up!”  Sam called.  He caught up with her in the parking lot.  “C’mon, give him a break, he’s really not that bad…”

 

“Sam!  He’s a jerk!”  Jennifer retorted, turning on him.  “Look, I know he’s your brother and you love him and all; but let’s face it, he’s a jerk.”

 

“Okay, yes, he’s a jerk, and I apologise for how rude he was…”

 

“And you gotta stop defending him, Sam…”

 

“Look, we were in a situation tonight where we weren’t in control – where _he_ wasn’t in control, and someone else had to bail us out,” said Sam.  “That doesn’t happen very often, and all that bravado bullshit, it’s just the way he deals.”

 

“Well, that’s gratitude for you,” said Jen.  She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.  “Why does he have to… speak to me that way?”

 

“You don’t get it, do you?”  Asked Sam.  “He feels threatened by you.”

 

Jennifer raised her eyebrows.  “Come again?”

 

“I’m serious – how many girls do you think we know of that can take on two werewolves single-handedly?”

 

“Not many, huh?”

 

“None.  You’re this pretty young thing who clearly dislikes him, on whom his charms are _completely_ wasted.  You’re not like any hunter we’ve met, you don’t fit into _any_ category as far as Dean is concerned, and that makes him nervous.”

 

“Why do I have to fit into one of his ‘categories’, anyway?”

 

“Because that’s another way he deals,” said Sam.  They had moved through the parking lot and sat down together on the low wall separating the bar from the highway.  “He doesn’t see shades of grey, just black and white.  Definites.  Hunters are tough, worldly men he can swap war stories with, women are for fun between hunts, or for rescuing.”

 

“Oh my God, that’s so misogynistic…”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s Dean,” sighed Sam.  “That’s what happens with the upbringing we both had.”

 

“Yeah, that’s just it though,” put in Jennifer.  “You both had the same upbringing, you were both raised without a momma, but you’re not like him.”

 

“I had the benefit of 18 months of college – real life – and a tough, beautiful, intelligent girlfriend to show me the error of my ways.”  Sam smiled sadly.  “Plus, I’m just naturally more sensitive and intelligent than Dean…”

 

“And so modest,” smiled Jen.  She touched his hand and he looked up at her.  “Where’s that tough, beautiful, intelligent girlfriend now?”  She asked, half-guessing his answer.

 

“The Demon, the one that killed our mom… It killed Jessica as well.”

 

“And that’s why you’re traveling around, hunting with your brother, instead of still at college, having a normal life,” she finished for him.  “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, well, Mom and Jess are gone, Dad is who-knows-where, and Dean’s all I’ve got left.  And you.”

 

“Sammy, I…”

 

“C’mon,” he cut in.  “You’re not seriously gonna go back to bussing tables at your aunt’s roadhouse, are you?”

 

Jennifer sighed and looked out into the night.  “I guess not,” she said.  “It’s just… you boys are used to working together, just the two of you.  I’m used to working alone; I’ve never had someone critique my fighting style when I’ve just saved their life.”  Then:  “ungrateful…”

 

Sam smiled.  “So, you gonna come back in now?”

 

“If I don’t go back in there, he’ll think he’s gotten to me,” Jen said.  “But if I _do_ go back in right now, I’m sure I’ll be forced to kill him at some stage…”

 

Sam chuckled at this.

 

“No, I think I’ll just head back to the motel, clean out my gun and see if that mistletoe is good for another hunt.”

 

#          #          #

 

By the time Sam rejoined Dean in the bar, he’d ordered another couple of beers.

 

“Lucky for you, I was able to talk her into staying,” said Sam as he slid into the booth opposite his brother.

 

“Aw, man, we could’ve been rid of her…” Dean started.

 

“Don’t even go there, dude, she saved our lives tonight and you know it.”  Sam eyed Dean severely, until the older man dropped his gaze sheepishly.

 

“Yeah, maybe,” he said.

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 **  
_Revenant_   
**

 

One week later, an uneasy truce between Dean and Jennifer still holding, the three found themselves conducting research in a tiny but relatively comprehensive library…

 

“A Revenant,” Sam was saying, “is a reanimated corpse…”

 

“Yummy…” said Jen, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Reaminated corpse, as in a zombie?  We’re talking ‘Night of the Living Dead’ here?”  Dean cut in.

 

“If you’d both let me _finish_ …” said Sam.  “It says here _‘_ _Those who return from the dead are wrongdoers in their lifetime, often described as wicked or vain or unbelievers. Often the revenants are associated with the spreading of disease among the living. The appropriate response is usually exhumation, followed by some form of decapitation, and burning or removal of the heart’._ ”

 

“There’s an ‘appropriate response’ when dealing with a zombie?”  Asked Jen, leaning over Sam’s shoulder.  “Where do you find this stuff?”  She closed the book so she could read its title:  “ _‘_ _England_ _Under the Norman and Angevin Kings’_ – right.”

 

“Not a zombie, a Revenant,” Sam corrected.

 

From Dean:  “The difference being…?”

 

“Zombies – ‘Night of the Living Dead’ stuff, are pretty anonymous.  Revenants, however… hang on…” he opened another book and read: “ _‘Stories of revenants were very personal, always about a specific individual who had recently died’._ ”

 

“Okay, so we’re looking at a _specific_ zombie.”  Dean smirked at Sam’s irritated expression.

 

“We can’t really pick this up until tonight, right?”  Asked Jennifer.

 

“Yeah…” Sam began.

 

“Great,” she said, heading for the door.

 

“Wait, where are you going?”  Sam called after her.

 

“For a run…”  Jennifer’s voice carried back through the open door.

 

#          #          #

 

After being cooped up inside the Impala all morning, then sitting inside the stuffy library half the afternoon, Jennifer relished being out in the open.  She let her mind wander aimlessly as her body did the work, allowing the scenery to wash over her as the stiffness in her joints and muscles melted away.

 

She returned to the motel room just as the boys were preparing their weapons for the evening’s work.

 

“I’ll just change my clothes,” Jen told them, panting slightly from her exertion. She grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom.

 

“Don’t be long, we need to leave soon,” Sam called after her.  She waved in acknowledgement and closed the door.  Forgoing a shower, she stripped off her sweaty running gear and pulled on her usual nighttime hunting attire:  Long-sleeved black turtleneck, black leggings and supple black lace-up boots.  She twisted her long hair into a bun at the back of her head to keep it out of the way, having learned long ago that a ponytail could wreak havoc on her if she tried to execute a turning kick.  The outfit rendered her black as night, and was skin-tight allowing for maximum movement with minimum noise.

 

“Oh c’mon, you are _not_ serious?!”  Dean spluttered when he saw Jennifer’s outfit.

 

“What?  It’s comfortable.  It’s functional.  It’s practical.  What’s the problem?”  Jen asked, twisting around to see herself without the aid of a mirror.

 

“It’s distracting.  It leaves nothing to the imagination.  Its… black.  Sammy, help me out here!”  Dean implored.

 

“Dean, don’t call me Sammy.  Jen, go get changed,” Sam ordered.

 

“I’m not getting changed!”  Jennifer retorted.  “This is what I wear when I hunt.”

 

“What do you do?  Sleaze them to death?”  Asked Dean. 

 

Jennifer glared at him and slung her leather jacket over the ensemble.  “Just because I don’t wear the same old jeans and biker boots everywhere…” she began.

 

“This look is a classic, these boots are _hand made_!  You look… lewd!” 

 

“Not something you usually complain about, _Dino!_ ”

 

“Don’t ‘Dino’ me you little…” Dean began, starting for Jennifer.

 

“Knock it off you two!”  Sam roared.  “Gees, you’re like a couple of _kids!_ Dean: shut up and leave her alone.  Jennifer: _go and get changed_.”

 

“But this is what I _wear_ when I’m…”

 

“Jen, if Dean misses the Revenant and cuts _my_ head off instead because he’s too busy staring at your ass….”

 

“Alright, alright already! I’m changing.  Sheesh!”  Exclaimed Jennifer, holding up her hands in mock defeat, and heading back to the bathroom.

 

As the door closed behind her, Dean said:  “Dude, I wasn’t staring at her ass, okay?”

 

“You _so_ were.”

 

#          #          #

 

“Jen!  Reckon you could keep it down to a dull roar?”  Dean hissed as they approached the house.  “The way you’re going, you might as well call Mr Zombie on your cell phone and announce we’re on our way!”

 

“Shut up, _Dino_ , it’s not my fault you can’t keep your eyeballs to yourself,” she snapped back in a whisper.  “If you’d just let me wear my own _clothes_ …”

 

“Oh, as opposed to what you’re wearing now, which are Sammy’s clothes?”

 

“Will you two stop bickering and _start concentrating!?_ ”  Sam whispered furiously.  He crept forward and Dean made a face behind his back.  Jennifer rolled her eyes at him out of habit, but smiled to herself as he looked away. 

 

#          #          #

 

Movement from within the house seemed to be confined to the upper floor. 

 

The three split up, Dean and Sam heading up the stairs while Jennifer covered the lower floor.  Bowie knife at the ready and flashlight held up to her shoulder, she crept through the living room, checking it carefully with a practiced sweep of her eye.  Moving through the cluttered and dusty dining room, she entered the kitchen, which seemed equally devoid of life, and indeed anything other than dust and broken furniture.  She had just about decided to join the boys upstairs when a fetid stench engulfed her, and a pair of hands spun her around.

 

The Revenant’s mouldering hand closed over Jennifer’s throat, and she had a moment to note the decomposing facial features before she was slammed against the wall.  She struggled to breathe, her feet drumming the floor, then flailing in mid-air as the creature lifted her up.  The knife fell from her hand, useless, as she clawed against the iron fist threatening to shut off her windpipe.

 

Feathers of grey began to creep into her field of vision as her oxygen-starved mind began to shriek.  Her fingers, still clawing fruitlessly against the Revenant’s hands, grew numb, and her struggles slowed.  Dimly, she was aware of a commotion on the other side of the room, but it seemed far away and unimportant as she began to lose consciousness.

 

In the next moment, she was falling to the floor, the creature’s hands no longer choking the life out of her.  As she drew in a great ragged lungful of dusty air, her vision clearing; Jen became aware of someone crouching next to her.  She flinched back, anticipating the stinking fingers returning to crush her throat, when she realized it was Dean. 

 

Gore-streaked machete in hand, he leaned over the now inanimate copse and said: “Now, don’t go losing your head there dude – oops, too late.”  He turned to Jennifer.  “You okay?”

 

Jen swallowed painfully and nodded.

 

#          #          #

 

At the far end of the cemetery, they salted the corpse and after dousing it with lighter fluid, set it alight.  Neither the brothers nor Jennifer spoke as they performed this ritual.  As dawn broke, they sprinkled the ashes with holy water, and buried them just inside the cemetery’s hallowed ground.

 

In the strengthening morning light, they stowed their equipment in the trunk of the Impala, and prepared to leave the little town behind them.  Jennifer caught Dean’s eye before he slid behind the wheel.  She touched her bruised and swollen throat.  “Thank you,” she said softly.

 

Dean held her gaze for a moment, his dark-lashed hazel eyes burning into hers, and then he nodded.  “You’re welcome,” he said.  “Now we’re even.”

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 **  
_Sam’s musin’s_   
**

 

It went on like that for months.  They bickered.  They joked around.  Played pranks on one another.  Worked cases.  Hunted together.  Same old same old, thought Sam.  Jennifer simply lent a new dimension.  She learned about them and they learned about her.  They learned to appreciate her hunting skills, as well as her IT expertise (something that had never been Sam’s strong suit, and certainly never Dean’s – he knew how to use an internet search engine, and that was about it).  She learned to rely on them as partners in the hunt.  To trust them.

 

Jennifer treated Sam as a brother.  An equal.  Her attitude towards, Dean, however, remained hostile.  Many a time Sam had found himself talking her down from popping him a good one, even when he deserved it.  Sometimes he did.  Sometimes, thought Sam, she just let him get to her in a way that wasn’t healthy.  And Dean seemed to know how, and when, to press her buttons.  One time he didn’t bother stopping her.  Sam had grown tired of Dean’s attitude too, and was ready to lay one on him himself, when Jennifer beat him to it.  She’d apologized later, but he hadn’t felt she needed to, and from the look on Dean’s face, he obviously knew he’d gone too far, as well.

 

But sometimes, Sam thought Jennifer’s hostility was a façade.  Occasionally – and only very occasionally; he could count the incidents on one hand with three fingers left over.  Occasionally he caught Jen looking at Dean not with hostility, or exasperation, or fury, or even that weary annoyance he saw when she was tired of fighting with him and wished he would just go away and leave her alone.  Occasionally, he saw something in her that, if he didn’t know any better, he would have called yearning.  And only those two times.  And only for a second.  And then it was gone.

 

Dean, when he wasn’t trying to annoy her, treated Jennifer with a grudging respect, and just the tiniest amount of condescending indulgence.  Like Jen was the kid sister he’d never had.  He, like Sam, knew by now that she was a fine hunter, often capable of thinking one step ahead of the boys and pointing out something that had been staring them in the face all along.  But although he never called her “Kid” again, that’s sometimes how he regarded her.

 

And like the hint of Jennifer’s façade, Sam noticed Dean’s as well.  More obvious, possibly because he knew Dean a lot better than he knew Jen.  On more than one occasion, he caught Dean watching Jennifer.  Sam knew Dean found her attractive.  Hell, so did he; she was a lovely looking girl. Tough and charming and beautiful all at the same time.  And it wasn’t like Dean to blinker himself to a pretty girl.  But no, it was more than that.  She seemed to fascinate him.  Perhaps that was why he teased her, to make her bite back, to see the fury flashing in her eyes.

 

And sometimes, when Sam grew tired of analyzing all this, tired of breaking up the arguments and being the voice of reason for Jennifer, and the conscience for Dean, he barked at them both to give it a rest, stop acting like children, for goodness sake.  Sometimes he noticed, and sometimes he didn’t, the look that passed between Dean and Jennifer when this happened.  A secret half-smile, like they were united against a common enemy.  Sammy.  The killjoy.

 

#          #          #

 

 

 **  
_An example of Dean and Jennifer_   
**

Hardly daring to breathe, Dean stood transfixed: knowing he should leave before she noticed him, or at least let her know he was there so she could make herself decent (and give him the dressing down he knew he deserved for dallying even this long).  But he was unable to turn away, move or indeed even think.

 

As he watched, she pulled a plain black t-shirt over her head, twisting slightly, her arms raised to allow the garment to slip down her body and over the plain black bra.  Her boyleg briefs, also black, rode up a little as she did this, moulding to her firm buttocks.  Next, she pulled khaki cargo pants on over her long, coltish legs and smoothed the lower hem of the t-shirt over the waist band.

 

Without turning around, she said:  “pass me that bowie knife, would you Dean?”

 

Dean started, and flushed guiltily.  He cast about, locating the bowie knife in its sheath on the bed in front of him, and tossed it to her without meeting her eye.  She caught it neatly and clipped the sheath to her pants.  Grabbing socks and hiking boots, she headed for the door.

 

“See you in the car,” she said breezily, hiding a smile.

 

Alone now in the room, Dean grimaced and ran one hand through his hair.  “Oh man!”  He said, weakly.

 

 

 

 **  
_Confession is good for the soul_   
**

**  
  
**

Middle America – one town bleeds into another…

 

As they drove down the main street, Jennifer noted a sign in front of the old church.  It read:

 

Services 7am and 6pm weekdays

Reconciliation 4pm Saturdays

High Mass 9am Sunday

 

“What day is it today?”  She asked, without pointing out the sign.

 

“Saturday, I think,” said Sam.  He indicated and pulled into the motel parking lot.  “This’ll do.”

 

After waking Dean (who’d been asleep in the back seat) and checking in, Jen threw a few things into her backpack and headed for the door.

 

“Where’re you going?”  Asked Dean.

 

“We need supplies,” Jen answered without looking at him.

 

“Are you going past the laundry?  Can you take my stuff over?”

 

“Your legs painted on?  Take it yourself!”  She snapped, slamming the door on her way out.

 

Dean gave Sam a bewildered look.  “Something I said?”

#          #          #

 

Jennifer seethed as she strode out of the parking lot and headed back toward the main street.  Ooh, that man was so infuriating!

 

“Take my laundry over, Jen, how about a cup of coffee, Jen,” she growled under her breath.  She made an expression of disgust for no one’s benefit but her own, and then forced herself to take a breath and relax.  “Okay, let it go.  Wrong frame of mind,” she told herself.

 

Dipping her fingers into the bowl at the rear of the church, Jennifer crossed herself and made her way to the confessional booths.  The partition slid back.

 

“May the Lord Jesus be in your heart and in your mind so you may properly confess your sins,” the Priest intoned.

 

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it’s been, um, a few weeks since my last confession.”  She began.  Clang, first sin.  Lying to a Priest.  More like a few _years_.  “Um, I’ve been doing my best to do the work I’m… meant to do.  And I know its, you know, God’s work and all, but sometimes I just wish I could take a break from it all, take a vacation from being a hunt…. I mean, from doing… what I do…”  Clang, lying to the Priest again.  Well, it wasn’t precisely a lie.  Hunting down and killing evil things – that was sort of Gods work, wasn’t it?

 

“The Lord's work is sometimes a challenge, my child, but we must do our best.”

 

“No, I know that Father…”

 

“Is there anything else you wish to confess, child?”

 

“Yeah.  I’ve been having… uncharitable thoughts about… a friend of mine.  I know I should just ignore him, but he’s such a pain in the _butt_ sometimes!  Sorry, Father.” She said, flushing.  Clang, cursing at a Priest.

 

“Our Lord Jesus Christ said ‘love thy neighbour’,” said the Priest.  “That doesn’t necessarily mean you have to _love_ him, it simply means your duty as a Christian is to do the best you can _by_ him.”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s the other problem,” said Jennifer.  “I _do_ love him…  That is, I’m in love with him…  And I’ve been having, er, impure thoughts about him as well.”  She felt her face go even hotter.  Well, no one said confession wasn’t humiliating – that was kind of the point.

 

“Is that love, or lust, child?”

 

“Oh its lust from time to time, for sure, Father, but I have some control over that,” she assured him.  “I should have some control over it anyway.  But I… you can’t help who you fall in love with, right?  Well, _you_ probably can.  Help it, I mean.”  Jennifer cringed and she thought she heard the Priest laughing under his breath.  Or maybe he was just having an asthma attack.  “Is that a sin?”

 

“Loving someone is never a sin, my child.  Some of the ways in which people express their love can be sinful, and certainly your impure thoughts are clouding your judgment, along with your… uncharitable thoughts, I suspect.  But no, love in itself is never sinful.”

 

“Thank you, Father.”

 

“You’re quite welcome, my child.”

 

“Uh, should I do penance?”  What, saying all that out loud wasn’t penance enough?

 

“Take the time to say the Rosary, and meditate on its meaning.  And say a prayer for me.”

 

“Yes, Father,” said Jennifer, and she prepared to leave.  Then she remembered what she’d actually come out do to.  “Er, Father?”

 

“What is it, my child?”  The Priest was beginning to sound impatient with her.

 

“May I take some Holy Water?  To help with… my… work.  I mean, God’s work?”  Clang, lying to a Priest again.  There must be some corner of hell especially reserved for people who continually lied to men of the cloth.

 

“Of course, child.”

 

“Thank you, Father.  Uh, have a nice day.”

 

Jennifer left the confessional and went to the font to fill a 40oz plastic pepsi bottle with Holy Water.  Sure, it wasn’t exactly glamorous accommodation for Holy Water, but hadn’t Our Lord traveled about in tent during Old Testament times?

 

Leaving the church, Jennifer felt as though a weight was lifted from her shoulders.  It was true what they said, confession was good for the soul.  She wandered along the road, taking note of the local plants.  She spotted mistletoe growing high up in its host tree, but it was the wrong time of year for mistletoe.

 

“Ah, Angelica!”  She exclaimed, and bent down to dig out the roots.  She stowed them carefully in a paper sack and returned the sack to her backpack.

 

She sat and watched a row of ants going about their business until she noticed the light was bleeding out of the countryside.  Better get back or the boys would simply head out for something to eat without her.  Inconsiderate…

 

“Do my best by them, do my best by them,” she intoned the mantra.  “I’ll do my best alright; I’ll do my best to kick them into next week!”

 

Jennifer glanced into the laundry as she headed back to the motel room and did a double take.  Dean was _actually_ doing his laundry for once.

 

“Hey Dean,” she called, leaning against the door.  “I’m sorry I snapped at you before, okay?  I’m just trying to figure out a few… are you doing _my_ laundry as well?!”

 

“Did you snap at me before?”  He asked by way of answering. “What supplies did you get?”

“We were just about out of Holy Water, and I found some Angelica as well,” she said distractedly.  “This isn’t just a plan to get your hands on my underwear, is it?”

  
“What, I can’t do you a favor without you getting all suspicious on my ass?” 

 

“No… yes… of course you can,” said Jennifer, shaking her head to clear it.  Had she stepped into an alternate reality?  Or had Sam simply had yet another word with Dean about his ever-loving attitude?  “I’ll just… go drop this stuff off and give you a hand.”

 

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Dean muttered to the retreating figure.

 

#          #          #

 

“Jen!  Stop jigging around, you’re makin’ me nervous,” Dean ordered.

 

Jennifer continued to ‘dance’ in her seat.  “C’mon, you guys, don’t you ever have any _fun?”_ She asked them.  “Come _on_ , Sam; just dance one song with me?”

 

“I don’t really dance, Jen,” said Sam, paling at the mere thought.

 

“Yeah, dude’s got two left feet,” Dean told her.

 

“Well, _you_ come and dance with me then,” Jennifer said in a rush before she knew what she was saying.  She snatched a look in his direction then looked away.

 

“I’m not dancing to _this_ crap,” he retorted.

 

Jennifer laughed and relaxed a little.  Well, at least he hadn’t refused outright.  “It’s not crap, it’s the Black Eyed Peas”, she told him.

 

“Like I said:  hip hop _crap_.”

 

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “So, what? _You_ can’t dance either?”

 

“He can dance,” Sam put in helpfully.

 

“How would you know?”  Dean shot a baleful glance in Sam’s direction.

 

“I’ve seen you dancing in front of the mirror as you shave when you think no one is looking.  Usually to Metallica, though.”  Sam was beginning to enjoy himself, and he grinned at his older brother.  “Go on Dean, it won’t kill you.”

 

Dean shot Sam a look that said he was certain it _would_ kill him, thank you very much, and followed Jennifer reluctantly onto the dance floor.  Dodging the other couples, they found a clear space, and he began to move half-heartedly to “Let’s Get It Started.”  The song was mostly over by then, however, and its ending blended into the beginning of Madonna’s “Hung Up.”

 

“Hey, now this is more like it!”  Dean said, and to Jennifer’s surprise and delight, he broke into the dance routine made famous by the video clip.  He held her eyes as she began to mirror his moves.  Moving closer, turning the quasi-aerobic routine into a dance made for two, Dean brushed his hands lightly over Jen’s hips as a circle formed around them.  Other adventurous dancers fell in beside the two, picking up the routine, and as the song ended and bled into “Voodoo Child”, Dean and Jennifer’s faces were only inches apart.  Then another dancer clapped him on the back and uttered a jovial compliment, and his face snapped back to reality, his eyes clouding over again.

 

Breathless and slightly euphoric, Jennifer followed Dean back to the table.  Sam was applauding and wolf-whistling.  He said:  “How does a metal-head know the dance moves to _Madonna?!”_

“Hey, that Madonna is one classy chick,” said Dean.

 

#          #          #

 

Later that evening…

 

Dean had headed into the front bar and pool table to hustle a couple of college kids for their beer money, leaving Sam and Jennifer to research their current quarry.

 

“Okay”, said Sam, closing up the laptop.  “So if we can’t really pick this up until the morning, we might has well… Jen?  You listening?”

 

“Yeah,” giggled Jennifer.

 

“What are you laughing at?”

 

Jen pointed at a well endowed blond across the room, still grinning, and said: “check out Chesty LaRue over there.”

 

“Mmmm.  Classy,” said Sam, following Jen’s line of sight.  “Good thing Dean’s not here.”

 

“What?  _Her?”_   Jennifer was incredulous.  “Even Dean has more taste than _that!”_

“Wouldn’t bet money on it.”

 

“My God Sam, I think she’s working the room!”

 

“Jen, don’t stare, oh wait, too late…” Sam trailed off as the blond spotted them and made her way over.

 

“Hey sugar,” she purred to Sam.  Then: “you making fun of me, hon?” she asked Jennifer.

 

“No ma’am,” replied Jen earnestly, trying to keep a straight face.  “I was just saying to my, uh, brother here that…”

 

“Coz if you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s what I always say.”  She allowed her gaze to take in Jennifer’s lean, muscular frame.  “Of course, if you don’t have it…”  The insinuation hung in the air and even Jen had to admit, next to this well-stacked individual, she looked positively flat-chested.

 

Jennifer chuckled.  “Whatever,” she said, smiling gently.  This overdone brood mare didn’t intimidate her, but it was obvious Jennifer’s athletic good looks made “Chesty” feel inadequate in some way.

 

“Take it easy, hon,” the blond drawled, confident she’d made her point.  “Bye, sugar.”  She dropped a wink in Sam’s direction and sashayed off to the bar.

 

Watching her go, Jennifer shook her head, still laughing under her breath.  Sam was eying her askance, and she said:  “What?  Did you think I was going to smack her one for that?”  Sam shrugged.  “Not worth the effort, _sugar.”_ Then:  “You done with that thing?”  She asked, indicating the laptop.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, handing it over.

 

“I’m gonna hook up over at that internet café and check my emails,” she told him, draining her beer and getting to her feet.

 

“You expecting anything important?”

 

“Nah, just the usual Viagra advertisements and offers to enlarge my penis,” she said airily, and Sam laughed. 

 

“May the Cyber Gods spare you from all that is SPAM!”  He intoned, gesturing grandly.

 

“Night, Sam.”  Jennifer smiled.

 

She reached the door of the bar just as Dean was coming back through it.

 

“You seen Sammy?”  He asked her.

 

Jen pointed back to where his brother was still sipping his beer and held his eye a moment longer than she intended.  Then, ducking her head, she pushed through the door and disappeared toward the all-night internet café.

 

“What is _up_ with that girl?”  Dean asked as he pulled up a chair next to Sam.

 

“What girl?”

 

“Jennifer.”

 

“She’s just off to check her emails...”

 

“No, I mean, she’s been acting funny around me all week.  First she yells at me about doing the laundry, next she’s actually _helping_ me with said laundry.  Then she asks me to dance – what was that all about, by the way?  And just now she gave me this funny look and wouldn’t say a word to me.  She say something to you?”

 

“Nope,” said Sam.  “Maybe she’s just tired of watching you hit on every woman in sight.  I know I am.”

“What do you care?”  Dean asked, his tone defensive.  “For that matter, what does _she_ care?”

 

“I _don’t_ care, Dean”, Sam said pointedly.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” replied Dean, sipping his beer and letting his eyes travel around the room, already bored with the conversation.  “Maybe she’s just on the rag.”

 

Sam choked on his beer.  “Whatever you do, don’t put that little theory to her,” he said.  “She’ll tear you a new one.”

 

“Just what I need…”

 

#          #          #

 

After deleting the expected SPAM, and replying to an email from her cousin, Jennifer surfed the internet for a while, not really concentrating on the images that flickered across the screen.  She was still seeing the way Dean moved when he danced – God, did he have to be so sexy?  And what was she thinking, asking him to dance anyway?  It was a one-way street to disaster.  Oh, for just one song he had looked into her eyes and really seen her, and made her feel like she was the only girl on the planet.  If she hadn’t already been in love with him, that in itself would’ve sealed the deal.  Then as the song finished, Dean’s face had slammed shut again.  Mister Closed.

 

Jen leaned back in the chair and pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes.  “Ah, shut up”, she told herself.  “Gotta start dealing with this.”

 

She disconnected the internet and closed the laptop; carefully storing it in the bag.  After waving goodbye to the computer geek who ran the café, she pushed her way back into the night and headed for the motel.  Cold shower.  Sleep.  That should help.

 

Rounding the corner towards the room, she dug the key out of her pocket and was about to let herself in when she heard voices.  And giggling.  Not coming from inside the room, but from the other side of the parking lot, where the motel rooms mirrored themselves.  Between the giggling and the obvious kissing noises she could hear snatches of conversation.

 

“… really sexy on that dancefloor, but I thought….”

 

“… just my little sister, you know…”

 

Those voices.  It was…

 

“Oh!”  Exclaimed the blond when she spotted Jennifer.  “Hi hon, fancy running into you again!  Look, sugar, it’s your sister!”

 

“Jen!  I…didn’t see you there…” began Dean.  He trailed off as he noted the open-mouthed look of disgust on the younger woman’s face.

 

Jennifer shut her mouth with a snap and shook her head.

 

“Night Dean,” she said colorlessly.  “Night, Chesty.”  She spun on her heel and strode back to her own room.  As she slid the key into the lock and opened the door, she heard “Chesty’s” shrill giggles start up again.  And the sound of another motel door closing.

 

Jennifer stood with her back against her own closed door, breathing hard.  The images of Dean dancing with her to “Madonna” were replaced with the vision of “Chesty’s” red-taloned fingers in Dean’s dark hair as he fumbled with her blouse, unable to wait until they were decently indoors.  She was so shocked she couldn’t even cry.  She slid down the door until her butt hit the floor, and she stayed that way, staring into space, hardly blinking.

 

Some time later – it could have been minutes or hours for all Jennifer was aware of the passing of time – she heard the doorknob rattle and managed to scoot out of the way before Sam entered the room.

 

“Hey Jen… say, what are you doing on the floor…?”  He trailed off when he saw the expression on her face.  “What happened?”  He asked, dropping to the floor in front of her.

 

“Dean… Chesty LaRue…” Jennifer whispered.  She twirled her finger in the air.  “You do the math,” the gesture said.

 

“Urgh,” said Sam, wrinkling his nose.  “Its official – my brother has no taste.”

 

Jennifer smiled wanly, and then resumed staring into space.

 

Sam reached out and touched her shoulder.  “That doesn’t explain why you’re groveling about on the floor,” he said gently.  As he watched her eyes fill with tears, he said:  “or maybe it does.”

 

Jennifer looked away and knuckled the tears from her eyes angrily.  “He’s a jerk,” she said.

 

“Yes, he is,” agreed Sam, studying her carefully.  “So why do you care?”

 

Jen shook her head.

 

“Does he know?”  Asked Sam.

 

“He knows I think he’s a jerk,” said Jennifer.  “I haven’t exactly made a secret of that.”

 

“Does he know you’re in love with him?”

 

Jennifer sighed and made herself look at Dean’s brother.  “I doubt it,” she said, and smiled thinly.  “He’s not as smart as you.”

 

Sam smiled back at her, his teeth white in the darkness, and Jen endured a brief, confusing moment as she wondered if she’d fallen for the wrong brother.

 

“Jen… I don’t know what to tell you…” he said.

 

“Well, you could start by swearing you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”  Noting the frown that flickered across his face, she said:  “look, its hard enough working together without him lording _that_ over me.”

 

“He wouldn’t lord it over you…”

 

“Okay, perhaps not.  But he still doesn’t need to know.”

 

Sam shook his head.  “I don’t like this, Jen,” he told her.  “Keeping secrets from one other, it’s not a good idea.”

 

“Please, Sam?”  Said Jen, touching his arm and beseeching him with her eyes.  “I’ll deal with it, but just don’t say anything to him, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he said with a sigh.  “Just… get some sleep okay.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” said Jennifer, clambering to her feet.

 

“I mean it Jen, we’ve got an early start and a long drive ahead of us in the morning: we need to be on the ball.”

 

#          #          #

 

The next morning, sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, casting a shaft of dazzling light across the room.  By 8am, the shaft had marched across the bed and shone directly into Jennifer’s eyes, waking her from a thin sleep.  She blinked and held a hand up to block the light, noting Sam’s still-snoring form on the other bed.

 

The rattling of the door handle accompanied by cursing caused Sam to stir, and Jennifer to reach for her .45, stowed safely under her pillow.  She moved swiftly and silently to the door and peered through the spy hole.

 

“Asshole,” she muttered, lowering the gun and unlocking the door to allow a disheveled Dean through the door.  “You stink Dean, go and get in the shower,” she ordered, pointing at the bathroom and eying him severely.

 

“Good-morning-sunshine to you too,” he said, startled by her ferocity.  “Thought we were hitting the road early.”

 

“Not until you’ve had a shower,” Jen told him, heading out the door.  “I’m going for coffee.”

 

“Oh, not on my account really,” said Dean, smiling charmingly at her.

 

“It’s your turn to drive, you’re gonna need it.”

 

“C’mon Jen, I hardly slept last night…”

 

“Not my problem, Dean,” said Jen, catching his gaze and holding it until he had the grace to flush and look away.  She lifted her chin in the direction of the bathroom to remind him, and left without another word.

 

“Sure as hell not getting in the car with you reeking of that woman’s cheap perfume…” she muttered as she made her way through the parking lot.  She spied a candy-pink convertible parked in front of the motel room where Dean had spent the night.  Checking she wasn’t observed, Jennifer stooped down and let all the air out of the tires.  A childish prank, for sure, but it made her feel a tiny bit better.

 

In the six months Jennifer had known Dean and Sam, ‘Chesty La Rue’ hadn’t been the first, and surely wouldn’t be the last.  Sam, she had noticed, didn’t seem to feel the need to flirt and collect phone numbers everywhere they stopped.  This may have had something to do with Jessica, but Jen suspect it wasn’t everything to do with it – or even the main thing.  Sam and Dean were just fundamentally different.  Dean obviously understood very well that he could be charming, that women found him attractive, and that the type of women who were drawn to his “bad boy” good looks could easily be talked into bed, and he used all of these things to his advantage.

 

Sam turned a blind eye, or simply shook his head ruefully at his incorrigible older brother.  He didn’t hold it against him; just accept that this was the way Dean was.  Jennifer however, unbound by family loyalty and unmoved by the lifetime of looking up to a big brother that obviously influenced Sam’s attitude, found Dean’s womanizing a little harder to take.  It annoyed her on a superficial level – how air-headed _were_ these women that they believed his stories about being a rock star, or an LA talent scout, or an undercover FBI agent? 

 

And on a much deeper level, it hurt more than she cared to admit.  She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him.  Life, and the job, would be much easier if she hadn’t.

 

Jennifer paid for the coffees and made her way back to the motel room.  She briefly entertained the idea of slipping some sort of laxative into Dean’s coffee, and then dismissed the idea.  They had a lot of miles to cover today, and stopping every few for a bathroom break wasn’t going to make it go any quicker.  Besides, that was even more childish than letting down ‘Chesty’s’ car tires, which she was already beginning to feel bad about.

 

Returning to the room, Jennifer handed Sam his coffee and knocked on the bathroom door.  She handed Dean’s coffee through the opening and as the door closed again, Sam’s mouth twitched into a half smile.

 

“You didn’t slip a little ex-lax into his coffee, did you?”  He asked.

 

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it.”

 

#          #          #

 

Six weeks later, the incident that would forever change the dynamics of their partnership occurred…

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 **  
_Truckstop of destiny_   
**

**  
  
**

_Mercy Medical Centre, Sixth Avenue, Des Moines, Iowa._

 **  
  
**

Stifling a sob, Jennifer fled the hospital room.  Dean glanced back at Sam’s battered, bruised, unconscious form, and then followed her, calling her name.  He found her sitting on the steps just outside the main entrance, shivering with cold and sobbing silently.

 

“Jen!  Hey Jen, don’t cry,” he implored, drawing her into his arms.  She went willingly enough, weeping into his leather jacket.  “I know it looks bad, but he…  Well, he might be okay…”

 

Jen was shaking her head.  “No, it’s not that.”  Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.  “I’m a terrible person!”

 

“What?  Hey, why would you say something like that?” He asked, gently pulling her away from him.  “You’re not a terrible person!”

 

“Yes, I am,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes and searching the pockets of her jacket for a clean tissue.

 

Dean waited while she cleaned herself up and regained some of her composure.

 

“Look”, she began.  “I’m really worried about Sammy – I know you are too”.  She held up her hand to cut him off and he opened his mouth to speak.  “But I’m just so relieved…  That it’s… him… and not… you.”

 

“What?”  He asked, softly.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, Dean. Sam is like, the nicest guy in the world!  He’s always treated me like, I don’t know, like a sister, and I love him to bits…”  Jennifer turned away, took a deep breath and forced herself to look at Dean.  “But not… not like I love you,” she finished.

 

“What?”  He repeated, almost inaudibly.

 

“Look, don’t worry about it, I’ll deal.  I’m sorry; this isn’t really the time or the place.”  She scrambled to her feet.  “You’d… better go sit with him or something,” she babbled as she started to back away.  “I’ll… go back to the…” and she fled into the night.

 

Dean continued to sit on the step, gazing into nothing, for a good minute before he realized Jennifer had disappeared.

 

“Jen!”  He called into the darkness.  “Jen!  Ah shit,” he cursed under his breath.  He took two steps in the direction she’d disappeared, then three back towards the hospital where his brother lay, unconscious.  Possibly dying.  “Shit!”  He repeated, drawing an odd look from a nurse who’d just exited the building on a cigarette break.

 

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Jennifer’s number.  It rang for a while, and then came the telltale beeps – she’d rejected his call.

 

“Goddamnit, Jen,” he growled, and started scrolling through his contacts for her number again.  The cell beeped twice.  Incoming SMS.

 

 _D, im @ motel.  Safe.  Dealing.  Stay w Sam.  C U L8R. J._

“Dealing.”  He murmured, snapping the phone shut.  “Aren’t we all?”  Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he made his was back up the steps and into the hospital.

 

#          #          #

 

Hours later, after being admonished by the night nurse to “go home and get some sleep”, and after extracting a promise that she’d call him if Sam’s condition changed, Dean left the hospital and made his way back to the Holiday Inn.  Quietly, he let himself in, and stood in the doorway, staring at Jennifer’s sleeping form.  He still couldn’t tell when she was faking sleep – she was that good at it.  He closed the door softly and made his way over to sit on her bed.  He brushed a lock of dark hair away from her forehead, and she stirred, and woke.

 

“Hey,” she said.

 

“Hey,” he echoed.  “Didn’t mean to wake you.  Thought you were fakin’ again.”

 

“Fooled ya,” she smiled, rubbing her eyes.  “What time is it?”

 

“Just after 3.”

 

Dean continued to stroke her hair and gaze down at her.  Moonlight, diffuse through the gauzy curtains, streamed across the double bed and across her features.  Without thinking, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.  Her breathing seemed to cease, and he pulled away, sure he’d done the wrong thing.  She reached for him, sinking her fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, pulling him down to crush his lips against hers.  As her hands moved to shove the leather jacket off his shoulders, he forgot all about his little brother, unconscious and broken in the hospital.

 

#          #          #

 

Afterwards, she lay in his arms, trailing one finger over his bare chest.  He caught her hand in his and laced their fingers together.

 

“You know,” Dean said.  “I kinda thought that _you_ thought I was a jerk.”

 

“You _are_ a jerk,” said Jennifer.

 

“Shut up!”

 

Jen giggled and kissed his shoulder.

 

“Seriously, though…”

 

“Seriously, Dean?  You _can_ be a jerk, sometimes.  In fact, you can be a right royal pain in the butt…”

 

“Ah, you’ve been talking to Sam.”

 

“Sam’s right about a lot of things.  The way you act like you’re in charge – I mean, just because you’re the eldest, it doesn’t make you the boss.  We’re all in this together, Dean.  We’re a team – it should be a democracy, not a dictatorship.”

 

“It _was_ a dictatorship when Dad was around,” Dean mused.

 

“And now that he’s _not_ around, _you’re_ the one in charge?”  Jen put to him.  “No offense Dean, I mean, you’re pretty amazing, but you’re no John Winchester.”

 

“That’s for sure,” he agreed.  Then: “so I’m pretty amazing, am I?”

 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”  Jennifer smiled and continued gently caressing Dean’s chest.  “I wouldn’t say John taught me everything I know, but I sure learned a lot from him.  He always treated me like… like a protégé, I guess, and I had a lot of respect for him.  _Have_ a lot of respect, I mean.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

They lay quietly for a moment, listening to the wind outside.  Then: “what did they say at the hospital, by the way?  How was he when you left?”

 

“The same,” said Dean.  “They said they’d call if there was any change, and told me to go home and get some sleep.”

 

“Hmm.  You’re not really getting any sleep, are you?”

 

“Do you hear me complaining?”  Asked Dean with a smile.  He rolled on his side and kissed her slowly on the lips.  She reached up and ran her fingers through his short, dark hair, holding his head against hers.  When they parted, she looked into his hazel eyes.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know I love you…”

 

“Ah Jen, I…”

 

“No don’t say it, I know you don’t feel the same way,” said Jennifer, propping herself up on her elbow as Dean flopped down onto his back.  “But I need you to know.  This is not some romantic, girly, school-yard crush; it’s just the simple truth.  Its there, its not going to change, and I’m not going anywhere.  We’ve got a lot of things we gotta face, you and me and Sam, and I love you and you need to know that.”

 

“I know it.”  He looked her in the eye and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with one finger.  “I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

 

“Well, I’d really appreciate that, Dean,” said Jennifer dryly.

 

“Sorry, I’m not really good at this sort of thing.”

 

“ _That’s_ for sure!”

 

Dean’s cell phone rang just as he opened his mouth.  He grinned sheepishly.  “Saved by the bell.”  Then, into the phone: “Hello?.... When?... Okay, we’ll be right there.”  He leaped out of bed and started dressing.

 

“Sam’s awake,” guessed Jen, pulling on her own clothes.

 

“Yatzee.”

 

#          #          #

 

At the nurses’ station, Dean and Jennifer were detained by Sam’s doctor before being allowed to see him.

 

“How is he?”  Dean asked.

 

“Actually, he’s fine,” said the doctor.  Noting their surprised expressions, he went on:  “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, to tell you the truth, but your brother is one lucky young man.  Not many people would’ve survived an accident like that, never mind come away with such minor injuries.”

 

“ _Minor_ injuries?”  Jen exclaimed, recalling Sam’s bruised and bloodied face from the night before.

 

As though he was reading her mind, the doctor said:  “The bruising and lacerations look worse than they are.  He has a fractured wrist and a couple of cracked ribs… oh, and a nasty bump on the head, that’s the thing we’re most concerned with.  But apart from that, he seems to have no internal injuries, no other broken bones.”  The doctor shrugged.  “Someone up there must like him, I guess!”

 

“I guess,” Dean echoed, raising his eyebrows at Jen.

 

“Of course, we’ll want to keep him in for a week or so.  Keep an eye on that concussion and make sure nothing insidious is developing…”

 

“Of course,” said Jennifer.

 

“And I think Mary-Anne needed to ask you about insurance…?”  The doctor indicated a mousy administrator before bidding them farewell and disappearing down the corridor.

 

“Your brother didn’t have any insurance details on him,” Mary-Anne was saying.

 

Dean fished around in his wallet before coming up with a card.  The administrator smiled myopically at him and took down the details, before handing back the card.

 

“Can we…?”  Dean pointed in the direction of Sam’s room.

 

“Oh sure, go right ahead,” said Mary-Anne.

 

#          #          #

 

“Hey, Sammy!”  Cried Jennifer as they walked into his room.

 

“Hey, dude, how do you feel?”  Asked Dean.

 

“I’ve been better,” croaked Sam.

 

Dean glanced at Jennifer and said:  “Uh, would you mind getting a couple of coffees?”

 

Jen looked Dean to Sam, and back again, and nodded.  Once she’d left, Dean said: “How come you don’t mind _her_ calling you Sammy, but when _I_ do it…”

 

“Because when she does it, she’s not being condescending,” said Sam.  “C’mon, Dean.  You didn’t send her out of the room to ask me _that_.”

 

“No,” agreed Dean.

 

“So?”

 

“You knew, didn’t you?”

 

“Knew what?”

 

“How she felt about me.”

 

Sam cocked an eyebrow at his brother.  “I take it _you_ know, then.”

 

“Yeah.”  Dean ran his fingers through his hair.  “Why didn’t you say something to me, man?”

 

“She asked me not to,” Sam replied.

 

“That’s just great, Sammy.”  Dean was not impressed.

 

“What… when did she…?”

 

“Last night… you were kinda out of it.”

 

“And?”

 

Dean looked away.

 

“You _slept_ with her?!”  Croaked Sam.  “Are you out of your mind?”

 

“Look, she was a willing participant, it wasn’t just me okay!”

 

“Dean, the girl is _in love_ with you!”

 

“Don’t you think I know that?”  Dean was pacing the room, but he stopped and turned on his brother.  “Look, it wasn’t just a one night stand for me either, okay.  I… care about her.”

 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, dude.”

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

“We all still have to work together…”

 

“I know, I know,” said Dean.  “Look, I _can’t_ do better than that.  She knows it, I know it…”

 

“He’s right, Sam.”  Said Jennifer from the doorway.  Two pairs of hazel eyes swiveled in her direction and she smiled gently at their slightly guilty expressions.  “What, you think I don’t know why I was sent out of the room?”  She asked.  Then:  “Don’t worry, Sammy.  I know where I stand.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Jen nodded, and changed the subject:  “So seriously, how are you feeling?”

 

“Seriously?  Better than I should, I guess.”  He fumbled with the controls and raised the head of the bed so he was in a near-sitting position.  “They told me I was hit by a truck?”

 

“You don’t remember?”  Asked Dean.  He dragged a hideous, kelly-green leatherette chair up to the bed and dropped into it.

 

Sam shook his head.  “I remember pulling into the gas station and getting out of the car…” he trailed off, his brow wrinkling with the effort of remembering.  “That’s it – then I woke up in here.”

 

“You don’t remember yelling out ‘Jess!’ and running into the road?”  Asked Jen.

 

“I called out for Jess?”

 

“How come you’re ‘seeing’ Jessica again, Sam?”  Dean asked.  He eyed his brother gravely.  “You haven’t had _that_ particular hallucination for a while.”

 

“Dude, I don’t remember any of it.”

 

“That’s weird,” said Jennifer.

 

“It’s not weird, concussion can do that.”  Dean pointed out.

 

“No, I mean the whole seeing Jessica in the middle of the road thing”.  She turned to Sam.  “I presume that’s where you saw her?”

 

“What part of ‘I don’t remember’ aren’t you guys getting?!”  Snapped Sam, wincing with pain.

 

“Okay, calm down, man,” said Dean.  He signaled Jen with his eyes.  “Enough”, his look said.

 

“Well,” said Jennifer, changing the subject yet again.  “If you’re stuck here for the week, so are we.”

 

#          #          #

 

Jennifer rolled herself on top of Dean, and he smiled up at her.  “Do you know what I like about you?”  He asked her. ****

“Hmm, is it my stunning beauty?  My prowess in the bedroom?”  She teased.  “Oh!  I know!  My incredible intelligence!  My sense of humour!”

 

“Jen…”

 

“No, it’s my ability to kick your butt!  My computer hacking ability?  No, it’s the back rubs I give, isn’t it?”

“Well, those are pretty awesome,” Dean agreed.  He shook his head as if to clear it.  “No, what I mean is, I like how I can, you know, be myself around you.”

“Pretty corny, Winchester,” Jennifer remarked.

 

“You know what I mean,” Dean said.  “You know who I am and what I do and the life I lead and I never have to lie to you about it.  You’re not afraid of me.  You don’t think I’m dangerous… or nuts.  You know the kind of childhood I had and the baggage I carry around with me and you’re still here.  You know I can be a complete jerk sometimes…”

 

“Sometimes?”  Teased Jen.

 

“…not to mention a sleaze, and you don’t take any of my crap.  You know all the worst things about me; and yet…”

 

“I see you whole – and I still love you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jennifer nodded and played with his hair.  Dean ran his hands along her bare arms and gazed up at her, his face serious.

 

She said:  “I also see your complete and utter devotion to your brother, and your father.  I see someone who puts his life at risk every day so that other people don’t have to know about the nasty things in this world.  I see the most incredibly sexy man I’ve ever laid eyes on…”

 

Dean grinned.

 

“And I know that in spite of your human failings, your heart is in the right place.  Always.”  Jennifer told him.  She allowed him to gently roll her back onto her side of the bed.  He propped himself up on one elbow to stare down at her.

 

“Incredibly sexy, huh?”

 

“Uh huh.”  Then: “Dean?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sammy’s….”

 

“Getting out tomorrow,” he finished for her, flopping down onto the bed again to face reality.  “I know.  Jen, we can’t carry on like this once he’s back – it wouldn’t be fair on him.  Or safe for either of us.  You know what happened to Jessica…””

 

“I know,” she said softly.

 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to carry on,” he smiled across at her, and she mirrored him.

 

“I know,” she said again.  “There will be… times… when we can be together…” she trailed, looking troubled.

 

“Jen?”  Said Dean.  “What…?”

 

Jennifer shook her head and wouldn’t meet his eye.  “No, never mind.  It’s stupid… It’s not fair on you, either.”

 

“What’s not fair on me?”  He persisted.  “C’mon, Jen, don’t start hiding stuff from me now, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she said.  “I… This is so stupid!  I wish I could say to you that if you even _look_ at another girl sideways I’ll wipe the floor with you.  Her too.”  Jennifer covered her eyes with her hands, and Dean gently pulled them away.

 

“Really?”  He asked.

 

“No,” she said.  “Yes… I don’t know.  I can’t just ask you to be faithful to me like that…”

  
“Because you don’t believe I would be anyway.”  He finished for her.

 

Jennifer didn’t answer him.  Which was answer enough.

 

“Jen… Look at me, please,” he ordered, his tone gentle.  “Yes, I can be a sleaze.  In fact, if I was a chick you’d probably call me a slut and be perfectly justified in doing it.  But… I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”

 

Jennifer regarded him soberly, her hazel-green eyes wide and deep.  Dean smiled crookedly and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

 

“It wouldn’t be fair on Sam for us to carry on like we’ve been doing all week,” he said.  “And it would be fair on you for me to carry on with anyone else, either.  Anyway, what do I need with some random chick?  If its going to be random, it might as well be with you, right?”

 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I care about you.  And I asking if you could at least give me the benefit of the doubt?  Can you do that?”

 

Jennifer raised her eyebrows and smiled.  “Dean Winchester, traveling playboy, different woman in every town, playing it straight?”  Her tone was playful but skeptical.

 

“Yeah, be sure to contact Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.”

 

“Oh-kay,” she said, not quite able to believe what she’d just heard.  “I suppose it’s more than I could have hoped for, but… how come you’re not extracting a similar half-assed promise from me?”

 

“Half-assed promise?!  This is the most commitment, not to mention honesty, I’ve ever bestowed on a woman!”  Dean feigned indignation, and then shrugged.  “For starters I’m not really the jealous type.  Also, I don’t believe _you’re_ the type to go screwing around on me anyway.”

 

“Feeling pretty secure there, huh sport?”

 

“Let’s put it this way:  if _I’d_ been hit by that truck instead of Sam, I don’t think you would have jumped straight in the sack with _him_ , while I lay in hospital.”

 

Jennifer nodded.  “Good point,” she allowed.  “I feel a bit bad about it, actually.”

 

“About what?”

 

“You know.  If it wasn’t for the fact that Sam’s been recovering in hospital, I would have said this had been the most incredible, wonderful week of my life.  And yet, if Sam hadn’t been cleaned up by that truck, it never would have happened at all.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” said Dean.  “ _He’s_ been stuck in a hospital bed and _I’ve…”_

 

“Been stuck in a motel bed,” Jennifer finished for him, pulling him down on top of her and kissing him soundly, which started things up all over again.  She lay beneath him as he worked inside of her, eyes closed in ecstasy, then open to hold his gaze as they came together, and she allowed herself to believe for one small moment that he was hers.

 

Dean started laughing softly into her ear as he lay, collapsed on top of her.  “Yep, Sammy definitely got the raw end of the deal on this one,” he said.

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Shore Leave_   
**

**  
  
**

“Room 12,” said Sam, throwing the keys to Dean, who caught them neatly in one grimy hand.

 

“Perfect,” said Dean.  “I’m gonna get cleaned up, you guys start without me, I’m not that hungry anyway.”

 

Sam and Jennifer made their way to the diner and ordered burgers and cokes.  After a slight hesitation, Jen ordered for Dean as well.  He claimed he wasn’t hungry, but he might feel differently after washing off all that pond scum, she thought.

 

Sam observed Jennifer out the corner of his eye, once they were seated.  The same tension he’d seen around Dean’s eyes was written across her face.  The three of them had been working constantly since he’d been discharged from hospital 5 weeks earlier.  Hunt after hunt after hunt.  Demons and skin walkers and evil spirits all blending into one another as they traveled, taking turns to sleep in the passenger seat, or the back of the car while the third one drove.  Catching a few hours here and there in motel rooms.  Fighting some things during the day, and more at night.  All three of them were exhausted and badly in need of a break. 

 

Sam’s wrist and ribs, now almost healed, had been more of an annoyance than anything else – rendering his left side next-door to useless.  Jennifer and Dean had taken up the slack where need be, but he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the fiberglass cast and looked forward to having it removed.

 

Neither Jen nor Dean had said as much, but Sam had a fair idea that they’d spent every minute they weren’t keeping him company at the hospital in bed together.  They had knocked it off the moment he’d been discharged, for his sake and their own, but 5 weeks of living and working in close proximity and not even touching, except for those times it was absolutely necessary, was clearly taking its toll.

 

Sam watched as Jennifer tapped her spoon distractedly against the side of the sugar canister, and as she cast yet another look at the door.

 

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this,” he said as he pushed his chair back and headed for the check-in counter. 

 

Jennifer flinched at his sudden movement and said:  “What…? Where are you going?”

 

“To get another room,” he called back over his shoulder.

 

Jennifer’s face registered confusion, and then surprise as his words sank in.  She sprang to her feet and followed Sam, catching him up as he reached the check-in desk.  She turned him with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Sammy?”  She said.  “Really?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, really,” he said.  “I’m choking on the pheromones around here.”

 

Jennifer stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank you,” she breathed.

 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of here before I change my mind.”

 

“Number 47!”  The short-order cook bawled from the kitchen.  “Three burgers with the lot!  Number 47!”

Jennifer reversed her direction and made a beeline for the counter.  “I’ll take two of those to go,” she said.

 

#          #          #

 

Jennifer let herself into the motel room and placed the takeaway bag on the table.  Fluorescent light from the bathroom spilled into the otherwise darkened room and she could see Dean through the open door, dark hair still damp from his shower, white motel towel wrapped around his slim hips, shaving with his straight razor.  After weeks of barely allowing herself to look at him, she savored the moment, gazing at his naked back.  She longed to run her fingers down the perfect skin, to surprise him with her presence, but with that straight razor in his hand, she didn’t dare.  The razor would be at her throat inside two seconds before he realized it was her, and that _wasn’t_ how she wanted to begin the evening.  She waited until he’d lain the razor aside and began wiping the excess shaving cream from his face before clearing her throat to let him know she was there.

 

Dean glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled wanly.  He turned away again and began cleaning the razor.  “Finished eating already?  Where’s Sam?” 

 

“He’s gone to get another room.”

 

Dean paused.  He slowly turned to face Jennifer.

 

“You’re shitting me.”

 

Jennifer shook her head and allowed her gaze to travel the full length of his partially naked frame.  Dean covered the space between them in three powerful strides and crushed his lips onto hers.  She returned his ardor, staggering back against one of the beds and allowing him to tear the blouse from her body in one practiced movement, the buttons popping off and scattering across the floor.  Her jeans were shucked just as neatly, her panties with them.  His towel had long since been discarded.  Ready for him in more ways than one, Jennifer allowed Dean to enter her as he plunged his hands into her unbound hair, his breath coming in gasps as five weeks of enforced abstinence took its toll.  It was over in a matter of minutes.




 

Dean collapsed against her, shuddering, and she held him, overcome by his passion.  “I’m so sorry sweetheart, that was way too quick,” he murmured against her neck, still breathing hard.

 

“You’re telling me,” said Jen, stroking the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

 

He lifted himself to look into her eyes.  "I needed you so badly," he said, his hands still working their way through her hair.  He disentangled them and touched her lips, and she kissed his fingertips softly.  "I can't stand this," he went on.  “Its killing us, we can’t go on like this.”




 

“We have to,” she replied softly.  “For our own safety as much as Sam’s sanity.”

 

“I know it,” he said.  Then:  “ah, gees, is Sammy really okay with this?”

 

“I think he pretty much knew we needed this time… you know… together.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Dean groaned, burying his face in her neck again.  He inhaled her scent and nibbled on her ear, wishing he’d taken the time before.  She pushed him away gently and grinned at him.

 

“Now, I know you said you weren’t very hungry…” she began.

 

“Actually, I am now,” he replied, cocking his head.

 

“That’s why I ordered for you and brought the food with me,” she finished.

 

Dean held her face between his palms and said: “You are an _angel_.”  He kissed her soundly and slipped off the bed.  Not bothering with his clothes, he retied the towel around his waist and attacked the paper take-out bag.  Jennifer swaddled herself in a motel-issue bathrobe and joined him at the tiny kitchen table.  They ate in silence, occasionally catching one another’s eye and grinning.  A whole night to themselves.  The concept was pure indulgence.  Jen finished her meal first and drained her coke with relish.

 

“I’m just going to have a shower,” she said, kissing Dean on the top of his head.  He pulled her down onto his lap and said:

 

“Think I might join you.”

 

Jen giggled.  “You already had one!”

 

“I know, but I’m suddenly feeling really dirty again,” Dean drawled, peeling the bathrobe away from her shoulder and trailing kisses down her neck.

 

“I’ll bet!”  She said, squirming away from him.

 

“At least let me watch?”  Pleaded Dean as she made her way to the bathroom.

 

“I won’t be long,” she said firmly, and shut the door.  She considered the straight razor briefly then discarded the idea.  Disposable safety razor was a much more sensible idea, especially if she wanted to make this quick.  She stepped under the hot spray and took care of her ablutions efficiently.  Toweling herself down, she cracked open the bathroom door and observed Dean, still dressed only in a towel, sitting on the bed and flicking through the television channels.  She smiled to herself and began to smooth cocoa butter lotion over her arms and legs with her usual economy of movement.  She had almost finished when she realized Dean was observing her silently from the doorway.

 

“Want to do my back?”  Jennifer asked, holding out the lotion.

 

“I’d rather do your front.”

 

“I can do my own front,” she smiled, turning her back on him.  He smoothed the lotion over her back, kneading her tired and aching muscles.  Running the heel of his hand down her lower back and over the swell of her right buttock, she felt him move in closer, felt his breath against the back of her neck and his stiff cock straining under the towel against her backside.

 

Jennifer tipped her head back to rest against his shoulder, and reached back to run her fingers through his hair as he kissed her neck.  His hands found their way to her flat belly and began moving upwards.

 

“Sure I can’t do your front?”  He murmured.

 

“Now that you mention it,” she replied, and gasped as his fingertips brushed her nipples.  She resisted the urge to turn around and shove the stiff and aching points into his mouth, allowing herself to be teased by his hands, slick with lotion, gently squeezing her firm breasts and even more gently pinching the nipples.

 

Her breath came in gasps and she moved her buttocks against the towel swaddling his cock, reaching behind her to grip his backside and grind his crotch into her.  She snatched the towel away and ran her hand up and down his stiff member, delighting in the hard, pulsating flesh encased in baby-soft skin.  Dean moaned and pulled away slightly.  Jen smiled and turned in his arms.

 

“Too much?”  She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling up at him.

 

“Don’t want it to go too quickly this time,” he told her, running both hands down her back, squeezing her buttocks and running them back up again, following the length of her arms and gently removing them from around his neck.  Holding her eyes with his, he walked backwards, guiding her towards the bed.

 

Falling backwards, he pulled her down on top of him, and she kissed him deeply, allowing her tongue to swirl into his mouth.  She tucked her knees up either side of his hips and thrust her left nipple into his mouth, as she’d wanted to do earlier.  He teased the tip with his tongue, working the other nipple with his fingers.

 

Jennifer moaned and rubbed her groin against his straining cock, allowing the head to stimulate her clitoris.  Ready, more than willing, and unable to wait any longer, she reached down and gently guided him into her.  Slowly, she sat down onto his hips, and paused, simply enjoying the feel of him inside of her.  She gazed down at the gorgeous, sexy man beneath her, his head thrown back and his eyes closed in ecstasy.  She leaned down and kissed his full lips, and began to move slowly, riding him in slow motion, his hands on her hips, guiding her movements.

 

“Dean!”  She gasped.  “Look at me!”

 

His eyes flew open and held hers as they rocked together, their breath coming faster.

 

“Oh God, Jennifer!”  Dean howled, grinding his hips in time with her movement, climaxing explosively.

 

“Oh Dean, oh help me, Dean, I’m coming!”  She gasped, feeling his hot semen filling her and losing control completely.

 

Jennifer collapsed against his chest, still rocking gently, her sweat mingling with his.  A shuddering sigh left her as her orgasm faded away after one final, glorious spasm.  She stayed that way, breathing in their combined scent with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

 

“Oh sweetheart,” Dean murmured after a while.  “Oh I need you, don’t ever forget that.”

 

“I won’t,” she whispered back, content.  Knowing it was the most he could offer her.

 

They dozed off, wrapped around each other, waking briefly a little later to rearrange themselves like two spoons in a cutlery drawer.  As dawn broke, Jennifer stirred and woke.  She turned over in bed, sure she’d find Dean gone.  She found him, however, curled up with his back to her on the far side of the bed.  She scooted over and cuddled up against his warmth.  He stirred enough to grab the hand resting against his belly and draw it up against his chest, snuggling her closer and falling asleep again.  Jennifer dozed, only partly aware of the strengthening light.  By 8am the sun was completely up and shining through the cheap curtains.  Jen, completely awake too, shook Dean’s shoulder until he groaned and rolled onto his back.

 

“Morning, handsome,” she said, kissing his chest.  He smiled, his eyes still closed, his hands finding their way into her hair again as she trailed kisses down his belly, finding his morning erection, and taking it in her mouth.  She stopped well before she knew he was likely to finish and he groaned.

 

“Aw, c’mon,” he said, trying to move her head back down.  She shook his hands free of her hair, and jumped out of bed, grinning over her shoulder, and headed for the bathroom.  She shut the door and started the shower.  A moment later, she stuck her head back out the door and said:

 

“You’re welcome to join me.”

 

Dean did not need a second invitation.

 

#          #          #

 

After exchanging a final, lingering kiss, Dean and Jennifer let themselves out into the dewy sunshine.  As they headed for the diner to look for Sam, they noticed the Impala pulling into the motel parking lot.  As it cruised past, Sam gave them a lazy smile and raised one hand in greeting.

 

“Where was he?  Off to find a better breakfast joint?”  Asked Jennifer.

 

Dean grinned.  “No, I think my little brother found some action of his own last night.”

 

Jen shot him a surprised look.  “That’s not like Sam,” she commented.  “Pickups are more _your_ thing.”

 

“Watch it,” he leered, goosing her.  “I think I know what’s going on….  Hey, bro, how was New Paltz?”  He called as Sam climbed out of the car.

 

“Don’t know, didn’t really see much of it,” replied Sam, smiling serenely.  Jennifer was amused to notice a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

 

“And how’s Sarah?”

 

Sam’s color deepened and he grinned.  “She’s…. very well,” he said.  “She asked after you.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” chortled Dean.  “What did you tell her?”

 

“The truth,” said Sam.  “I told her I was giving my brother and his new girlfriend a bit of… quality time alone.”

 

“Ahhh,” Dean nodded.

 

“Someone wanna fill me in?”  Asked Jennifer, looking from one brother to the other.

 

“Sammy went to visit an old friend last night while we were… busy,” Dean explained.  “This girl Sarah Blake accompanied us on a hunt in New Paltz, up state New York – did I ever tell you about that creepy-assed haunted painting of the Merchant family?”

 

“I read about it in your father’s journal,” Jen nodded.  “None of the usual things worked and you ended up having to burn the doll’s hair.  Good call, by the way.”

 

“Actually, it was Sarah’s call,” said Sam.

 

Jennifer looked impressed.  “Smart girl.”

 

“Yeah,” said Sam, turning to Dean.  “And she said any girlfriend of yours would have to have rocks in her head unless she was able to keep you in line and kick your butt on the occasion you needed it.”

 

Jennifer grinned.  “I like this girl already!”  Then: “So… we’ve all… exorcised our demons, so to speak.  We’re all feeling a little less… tense?”

 

They laughed together and Dean said:  “Hey dude, why’d you hurry back so early?  You could’ve stayed a little longer.”

 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”  Sam rolled his eyes.  “Got a text message from Dad.  We need to get our asses to Saratoga by the fifteenth.”

 

“Iowa?”

 

“California.”

 

“The fifteenth, that’s still two weeks off, we’d make that with time to spare,” said Jennifer.

 

“She’s right, man, we’ve got time for a little shore leave,” said Dean, draping one arm over Jen’s shoulders.  “You could go see Sarah again – make it up to her for running out so early this morning…” Dean smiled winningly at his brother, and Jen could see Sam was tempted.

 

“I don’t know, Dad specifically said the fifteenth, I think we need to get there, ASAP.”

 

“C’mon Sammy, we’ve been working our asses off since you got out of hospital,” said Jennifer.  “We need a break.  We can drive straight through to California if we need to, but we don’t have to leave this very second, do we?”

 

Sam looked from one pleading face to the other, sighed, and pulled out his cell phone.  Punching in a number, and listening for a moment, he said: “Sarah?  Hi, it’s Sam…. Yeah, I had a good time too.  Listen, it looks like we might be sticking around for a little longer, after all…. Yeah?... Okay, see you soon.”  He closed the phone and climbed back into the car.  “See you in a couple of days!”  And he drove off, much to the consternation of Jennifer and Dean.

 

“What, he’s just gonna leave us here?!”  Dean spluttered.

 

“But I wanted to meet Sarah!”  Jen exclaimed.

 

They watched as Sam executed a U-turn at the end of the street, and pulled back into the parking lot.  He drew along side them with a grin on his face.  “Just kidding!”  He said.  “Hop in!”

 

#          #          #

 

 

 

 **  
_Valentine, Nebraska_   
**

 

Jennifer stirred and woke as the Impala drew to a halt.  “Where are we?”  She asked.

 

“Valentine, Nebraska,” said Dean from the front seat. “We just stopped for gas, go back to sleep if you want.”

 

“Valentine, Nebraska, Valentine, Nebraska…” she mused, rubbing her eyes and trying to clear her head.  “Why do I know that name?”  Then:  “Oh!  Oh!  We have to stop!”

 

“We _have_ stopped, babe.”

 

“No, I mean, I know someone who lives here, well I knew someone who lived here 5 years ago anyway.  I gotta go look her up!”  Jen scrambled out of the car and headed toward the payphone in search of a telephone directory.

 

“Jen, we’re not stopping here, we have to get to Saratoga”, Dean called out the window.

 

“Yeah, by next week, we can stop long enough to say hi.”  Jennifer flipped the book open and ran her finger down the R’s.  “Reynolds, Reynolds,” she muttered under her breath.  “Ah!  Katherine Reynolds!  Good, you’re alive!”

 

“Jen…” Dean warned as she came back to the car, torn-out phone directory page in hand.

 

“Dean, I haven’t seen this girl in _five years_.  She used to be one of my best friends.”  Dean remained stoney-faced, but she could see he was just about to crack.  “Pleeeease?”

 

“Ah gees, don’t give me the ‘pleeeease’ routine”, he scowled.

 

“Look, its not like we’re in any great hurry, how often are we gonna come through Valentine, anyway?”  Jennifer continued to look at him imploringly.  “Pleeee….”

 

“Okay, okay, just don’t do the puppy-dog eyes, I can’t stand that.”

 

Jennifer leaned in the window and kissed him on the mouth, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Alright, knock if off, you two,” Sam called as he made his way back from paying for the gas.  “Let’s hit the road.”

 

“ _You_ get to tell him,” Dean told Jennifer.

 

#          #          #

 

The buzzer didn't seem to be working, so they knocked on the door. They heard footsteps from inside, then a voice calling out:  "You're a bit early, Jules, I said _six_ o'clock not _three_ o'clock... Oh!"  A tall young woman with straight dark blonde hair opened the door.  "You're not Julie," she said.  Then:  “Jenny?  Omigod, Jenny it’s been _years!”_ The young woman shrieked and pulled Jennifer into a crushing embrace.




 

“Hey, Katherine,” Jen mumbled against the other woman’s shoulder.  “It’s been _five_ years!”

 

“No!  Has it been that long?”  Exclaimed Katherine.  “Well, come in, come in; excuse the mess!  Hi, I’m Katherine, by the way!”  She beamed at the men and shook their hands one by one.

 

“Sorry, Kath, this is Sam and Dean.  We’re… road-tripping together.  We just stopped for gas,” Jen said by way of explanation.  As they made their way into the kitchen at the back of the house, Jen asked:  “So, what have you been up to.”

 

“Well…” began Katherine, and she gestured out the kitchen window.  In the corner of the dry, dusty back-yard, there was a small sandbox.  And quietly playing in the small sandbox was an even smaller child.  At this distance it was impossible to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but it had angelic curly blond hair and was wearing a pair of faded overalls of indeterminate color.

 

“Katherine!”  Jennifer breathed, enchanted.  “I had no idea…  How old?”

 

“He’s nearly two,” said Katherine.  Noting their surprised expressions, she went on to say: “Jackson was a preemie.  Like you, Jenny.”

 

Dean blinked in surprise and turned to Jennifer.  “You were premature?”  He asked.

 

“Yup, born at 27 weeks.  My mom just went into labour and BOOM!  Fifteen minutes later I was born.  Good thing she lived near the hospital,” Jennifer told him.  “All preemies grow up looking young.  That’s why you thought I was 16 when we met.”  She smiled at the memory and turned to Katherine.  “He used to call me ‘kid’!”  She confided.

 

Katherine grinned as Dean went red.  “I only called you ‘kid’, twice” he muttered.

 

“I’m surprised you got that far!”  Katherine chortled.

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get any further than that; she threatened to kick my butt!”

 

“Attagirl!”  Katherine cheered, punching Jennifer in the arm.  She eyed the boys and said: “Why don’t you two go and… introduce yourself to Jackson so I can catch up with Jenny here?”

 

They both shot a worried glance at Jennifer as she shooed then toward the door.  “He’s not going through a biting stage or anything, is he?”  She whispered to Katherine.

 

“Of course not, why would you th….”

 

“Go on, go on!”  She told the boys, pushing them out the door.  “I have it on good authority he doesn’t bite!” 

 

Jennifer and Katherine watched Sam and Dean as they hunkered down next to the sandbox and an oblivious Jackson.

 

“So, which one is it?”  Katherine finally asked.

 

Jennifer colored and said: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

Jennifer sighed.  “Frigging psychic you are!”  She growled.  Then: “The older one.  Dean.”

  
“Thought so,” smiled Katherine.

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah.  You always did go for the dark, smoldering ones; rather than the cute, boyish ones.”

 

“Dark, smoldering one; I like that!”  Grinned Jennifer.  “Anyway, Dean’s cute too.”

 

“ _Sam’s_ cute.  Dean’s hot,” Katherine summarized.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that; you know _I_ always went for the cute, boyish ones.  Anyway, Sam’s taller,” she pointed out.  At five foot nine, this was an important male attribute to Katherine.  “Do you love him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does he love you?”

 

Jennifer looked at her old friend and shook her head.  She gestured out the window and changed the subject:  “He’s a beautiful child, Kath”.

 

“He’s an angel,” Katherine agreed, allowing the conversation to change tack.  “Literally – when he was tiny, you wouldn’t have known there was a baby in the house!  My mom says I don’t deserve such a good kid because I was so rotten!”  She laughed, softening the harsh words.

 

“Is Jackson’s father…? I mean, are you…?”

 

“For all I know, Jackson’s daddy is hangin’ around with _your_ daddy, if you catch my drift.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yup, as I think your momma once said: ‘he only stuck around for the fun part’!”

 

“That sounds like my mom,” Jennifer smiled, touching her amulet.

 

“Oh, now, where are my manners?!  You want some coffee or something?  How do those two take their coffee?”

 

“Dean: black, no sugar.  Sam… actually I don’t know how Sam takes his,” said Jennifer.  Katherine shot her a knowing glance and Jen smiled.  “Just kidding, Sam has white with two, like me.”

 

Katherine set the kettle on the stove and went to the back door.  “Jackson honey,” she called.  “Why don’t you bring your new friends in and you can have milk and a cookie.”  The child immediately abandoned his bucket and spade and toddled back to the house with Sam and Dean in tow.  He accepted a trainer cup of milk and an arrowroot biscuit from his mother and sat on the kitchen floor with crayons and a coloring-in book featuring the Sesame Street monsters.

 

“He doesn’t say much,” commented Dean as they sipped their coffees and crunched on oatmeal cookies.

 

“His speech is a little delayed,” Katherine admitted.  “No, I shouldn’t say that, he can say whole sentences when he wants to, he just… doesn’t want to very often.”  She smiled.  “He will parrot a lot of what _you_ say though, so watch you’re language!”

 

Jackson wasn’t coloring precisely inside the lines, but it was pretty close.  Every so often he’d deliberately put down his crayon, pick up the cookie and take a bite, place it back down, pick up the trainer cup and take a sip, put it down, and pick up the crayon again.  His movements were deliberate and accurate, and Jennifer was astounded at his motor control.

 

“His speech may be delayed but his coloring-in is pretty advanced,” said Sam. 

 

“He just loves that monster book,” Katherine smiled.

 

“Mons-tahh,” Jackson said, softly but deliberately.

 

“See what I mean?”  Katherine whispered.  Then: “Well, my son, you’re lookin’ mighty grubby!  Think you’d better have a bath before Julie gets here.”

 

“Joo-lee!”  Jackson’s smile was radiant, reminding Jennifer of a very sandy, dirty cherub.

 

“I’d love to have you three stay for dinner, but I’m afraid I have dinner plans myself,” Katherine apologised.  “I’m meeting with my boss; there might be a promotion in it.  Jackson’s babysitter’ll be arriving at six o’clock.”

 

“Oh no, that’s okay, Katherine, we’ll have to be on our way by that time anyway,” Sam put in hastily.  “We have to get to Saratoga”.

 

“Tonight?!”  Katherine asked.

 

“By next week,” Jennifer assured her.  “We’ve got heaps of time.”  She looked pointedly at Sam as she said it.

 

“You didn’t say what this road trip was about,” Katherine said, looking mainly at Jennifer but including the boys briefly with her eyes.

 

“We’re…”  Jen began, looking to Sam and Dean for help.

 

“Doing some research,” Dean finished for her.

 

“For college,” Sam put in.  “I’m… delivering a paper in Saratoga next week.”

 

“Oh?”  Enquired Katherine.  “Research into…?”

 

“Paranormal phenomenon,” Jennifer said.  Well, it was close enough to the truth.

 

“So, Katherine”, began Dean.  “Uh… how long have you lived in this house?”

 

“Oh, feels like forever!  No, since Jackson was 6 months old…”

 

Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief and let Katherine’s words flow over her, without really listening to them.  _This_ was why Sam and Dean discouraged contact with old friends – it was too hard explaining what it was they were all _doing_ together.

 

#          #          #

 

“You boys help yourselves to a beer, if you like!”  Katherine called over the din of the water filling the tub.  She fixed her eye on Jennifer:  “ _You_ can help me with _this_ one!”

 

“C’mon, Jackson!  Bath time!”  Called Jennifer.

 

“Bath! Bath! Bath!”  Chanted Jackson as he climbed the stairs.  He gave up trying to step up them one by one and dropped to all fours to clamber up as thought it were a mountain.  Much faster that way.

 

The women chatted over old times as the child splashed in the bath.  He became more vocal and babbled away to his bath toys.  Among the unintelligible gibberish, she heard “mommy”, “joolee” and “monstah” and she had the distinct impression Jackson was telling his toys about the day he’d had, and the evening that was coming.

 

Katherine and Jennifer were just trying to fish a soggy and giggling Jackson out of the bath, when the phone rang. 

 

“Can one of you boys get that?”  Katherine called down the stairs.  Jackson was avoiding the end of bath-time by diving into the bath water every time his mother said “okay, time to get out.”  He came up spluttering and giggling, only to do it again when Katherine reached for him.

 

“Come here, you little monkey!”  She exclaimed and pulled the wriggling, protesting child out of the bath and plunked him onto a waiting towel.  She began to rub his head vigorously to dry his blond curls.

 

Sam poked his head in the door.  “Uh, that was your babysitter – Julie,” he began.  (“Joo-lee” came Jackson’s muffled voice from beneath the towel.)

 

“Oh no,” said Katherine.

 

“I’m afraid so.  She’s got some sort of virus; she won’t be able to make it tonight.”

 

“Ah, Christ on a crutch!”  Katherine swore in dismay.  “I can’t cancel dinner with my boss!”

 

“That’s okay, we’ll look after Jackson,” offered Jennifer.  Sam blinked and looked at her with his eyebrows raised.  Clearly, that wasn’t what he had in mind.

 

“Oh, would you?”  The relief in her voice was obvious.  “Oh, you’d be doing me such a favor, I’m in line for this promotion and I promise Jackson will be good!  He’s an angel!”  She babbled.

 

“Well, we weren’t really planning on _staying_ tonight” said Sam, glaring at Jennifer behind Katherine’s back.  “We don’t even know if the motel is free…”

 

“Oh, stay here the night, there’s plenty of room as you can see!”  Katherine laughed and gestured into the hallway.  “I’ve got cable and there’s plenty more beer in the fridge.  I’ll leave some money for take-out…”

 

“Sold!”  Said Dean, coming up behind Sam.  “C’mon, Sammy, one more night won’t make a difference.  Get your laptop out of the car and do some work if you want.”

 

Sam retreated muttering something which sounded suspiciously like “always take _her_ side” and headed back down the stairs.

 

“Don’t take any notice of him, he’s just nervous about this… paper he has to give,” Dean told a worried-looking Katherine.  He smiled disarmingly at her and, cute and boyish preferences aside, Katherine smiled back, charmed.  Jennifer rolled her eyes and Dean dropped his act and beat a hasty retreat after Sam.

 

#          #          #

 

“Okay, all done,” Jennifer called from the kitchen.  She wandered into the living room, about to ask the boys sarcastically if she could get them anything (neither had offered to help her with the dishes) when she spotted Jackson fiddling with the radiator again.

 

“Why are you letting him do that?!”  She scolded.

 

“We told him to stop and he wouldn’t,” said Dean, shrugging as if to say “what can you do?”

 

Jennifer shook her head.  “Well, if you’d just peel your eyes off the screen for two seconds…” she said in exasperation.  Sam wasn’t much help either; _he_ was glued to his laptop, pecking away.  She bent down to Jackson’s level and gently removed his hands from the radiator.

 

“Look at me, sweetheart.  Mommy said not to play with the radiator, didn’t she?  Mommy said she didn’t want you to get hurt.”  She pointed him in the direction of his building blocks and said:  “Why don’t you go and make something with your blocks, here, Aunt Jenny will help you.”  She followed the child as he toddled over to where the blocks where and started building a fort for him to knock down.  She stayed until he was completely engrossed, then quietly disengaged herself and sat down across from Dean.

 

“See?”  Jennifer said.

 

A few minutes later, Jackson started moving towards the radiator again.

 

“No, Jackson!”  Dean warned.

 

Jackson kept going.

 

“No, Jackson!”  Said Jennifer.  The child stopped, and regarded Jen with his luminous blue eyes.  He then reversed his direction and headed for the bookcase.  Dean shook his head in disbelief, and she hid a smile.  Jackson located a Dr Suess book, toddled over to Dean, handed him the book and climbed into his lap.

 

“Loor-acks,” he said, tapping the book with one finger.

 

“Why don’t you ask ‘Aunt Jenny’ to read it?”  Dean said, gently trying to shift the child from his lap.

 

“I think he wants _you_ to read it, Dino,” Jen said with a grin.  Sam snorted from behind the laptop screen.

 

“Dee-no!  Loor-acks!”  Said Jackson emphatically, tapping the book again.  Dean shot Jennifer a murderous glance, and picked the book up.

 

“Okay, Jackson,” he sighed.  “Hey, The Lorax!  I loved this book when I was your age!  Actually, probably when I was a little older – are you sure this isn’t a little advanced for him?”  He asked Jennifer.

 

“Apparently not.”

 

“Okay, here goes… ‘At the far end of town, where the grickle-grass grows…’ ”

 

Jennifer watched as Dean spun the story for Jackson, who sat completely still, engrossed in the book.  She too had loved this book as a child, and she sat spellbound, unable to take her eyes off this brooding young man with an angel in flannelette pyjamas on his lap.  Oh, he’d make a wonderful father!  The thought sprung unbidden into her mind, and she squashed it immediately.  No point thinking like that, it could never happen.

 

“…’grow a forest!  Protect it from axes that hack.  Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back!’” Dean finished.

 

“Loor-acks!”  Said Jackson.

 

“Yeah, Lorax,” repeated Dean.  His eyes were shining and he wouldn’t look at Jennifer or Sam.  Jen knew how he felt; she always choked up at the end of that one, too.

 

“That was beautiful, Dino,” said Sam, pretending to wipe away a tear.

 

“Shut up, Sammy,” Jennifer said as Dean opened his mouth, presumably to voice a similar sentiment.  The last thing she wanted was for Dean to feel ashamed of tearing up over a lovely children’s story.  “Okay, bedtime, Jackson,” she said, climbing to her feet and holding her arms out to the child.

 

“Dee-no!”  Said Jackson, refusing to go to Jennifer.

 

“Uh, okay, Dean can put you to bed too,” she allowed.  “Say nigh-nighs to Sammy.”

 

“Nigh nigh Sam-mee,” said Jackson, waving to Sam from Dean’s arms.

 

“Night, sport,” said Sam, returning to his work.  He smirked as he caught Dean’s eye.

 

Upstairs, Jennifer took the child from Dean and placed him in his cot.  She handed him his teddy, and he rolled onto his side, cuddling it.

 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said, and kissed his blond curls.

 

“Night, Jackson,” said Dean, and closed the door.

 

“Nigh-nigh, Jen-nee, Dee-no!”

 

In the hallway, Jennifer grinned at Dean, who said: “Frigging ‘Dino’ again, I’m gonna kill you for that!”

 

“Just kill me slowly, okay?”  She said, slipping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his neck.  He moaned softly and put his arms around her, his lips seeking hers.

 

“Dee-no!  Jen-nee!”  Called a small voice from inside the nursery.  Dean groaned and Jen giggled.

 

“Looks like you’ll have to kill me slowly later!”  She murmured, nibbling his earlobe.

 

“Go to sleep, Jackson!”  Dean called, and bent his head towards Jen again.

 

“Dee-no!  Mons-tah crozzit!”

 

Dean froze.

 

“Did he just say ‘monster closet’?”  He whispered.

 

“That’s what it sounded like.”  Jen whispered back, her eyes wide.

 

Dean turned and opened the nursery door again.  Across the room, Jackson was standing up in his cot, pointing to the closet door which was partly open.  Jen swore it had been closed moments before when they’d put him to bed.

 

“Mons-tah crozzit!”  Jackson repeated. 

 

Jackson’s night light began to flicker, and Jennifer flinched.  Dean pulled the EMF meter from his pocket and pointed it towards the closet.  It squealed, and the hall lights started flickering as well.

 

“Jen, get him out of here!”  Dean ordered, placing himself between the closet and the cot.

 

“Okay, Jackson, come here!”  Jen said, trying to keep the concern out of her voice.  “Yes, bring teddy.”  She wrapped the down comforter around the child and lifted him from the cot.

 

She passed Sam on the stairs and exchanged a knowing glance with him.

 

“EMF?”  He asked.

 

“Going nuts,” she replied, heading for the front door as quickly as she could manage with a toddler in her arms.

 

Jennifer fled down the front walk and opened the door of the Impala.  She’d always admonished Dean to lock the darned thing when it was parked on the street, but tonight she was grateful it was open.  On the back seat, she fashioned a nest for Jackson and tucked him in with his teddy bear.

 

“Mons-tah crozzit,” he told her in tones of one imparting a great secret.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, Dean and Sam will take care of the monster,” she told him, stroking his hair.  She starting singing nursery rhymes in time with her stroking hand, to calm her own nerves as well as Jackson, and the child’s eyes began to droop.  His breathing slowed and became regular as he went to sleep.  A tired toddler at the end of a busy day, after all.  Jennifer kept singing under her breath, and glanced back at the house.  It was silent and dark, she couldn’t even see the flickering lights anymore.  What was happening?

 

Jennifer was an experienced hunter and wasn’t usually jumpy over some evil spirit infesting an old house, but sitting out in the car doing _nothing_ was not something she was used to.  She looked at the sleeping child, then back at the house, wondering if she should go back in there, wondering if they needed help.  She’d almost decided to do just that when the front door of the house opened and the boys came striding out.  They jumped into the car and were speeding down the street before Jen could even open her mouth.

 

“What was it?”  She cried, holding onto the still-sleeping Jackson so he wasn’t jolted around too much.

 

“Don’t know.  Little red-eyed bastard… Can’t do anything about it tonight, anyway,” said Dean, taking the next left back towards town.

 

“But Katherine…” she began.

 

“Can’t stay in that house,” Sam finished for her.

 

“There can’t be that many nice restaurants in this town,” Dean put in.  “We’ll just find her and…”

 

“And tell her what?”  Jen cried.  “That her house is infested by some little red-eyed… monster… and her son, who should be tucked up in bed, by the way, is in the back on your _car?!”_

 

“You got a better idea?”  Dean snapped.  “Look, we’ll just have to find a motel for the night and go back in the morning.”

 

“What do you know about that house?”  Sam asked her.

 

“Absolutely nothing, she wasn’t living there when I knew her before.”  Answered Jen, running her fingers through her hair.

 

“She didn’t mention anything about flickering lights and ‘monsters in the closet’ when you had your little chat?”

 

“Faulty wiring and bumps in the night are not subjects you generally “chat” about when you haven’t seen someone in five years!”  Jennifer fired back.  “Just because _we_ know what that stuff means, doesn’t meaneverybody else does.”

 

“Okay, so we need to talk to Katherine, maybe some other people, and find out what the deal is. Because once we figure out what it is….”

 

“We can figure out a way to kill it,” she finished.  “I know.”

 

#          #          #

 

After booking two rooms and settling the still-sleeping Jackson into one of the beds, Jennifer started ringing around until she found Katherine at a small Chinese restaurant in town.

 

(“What am I supposed to tell her?”  She’d asked Sam and Dean.

 

“C’mon Jen, you’re a hunter, you know the drill…. Lie.”  Dean grinned.

 

“Great,” said Jen, opening the telephone directory.)

 

As calmly as possibly, Jennifer informed her friend that there was a gas leak in her house and that they’d taken Jackson with them to a motel for the night.

 

(“Gas leak?”  Katherine had squawked.

 

“Yeah, we, err, noticed it when Jackson started fiddling with the radiator again…” Jennifer cringed, hoping this sounded plausible.)

 

She gave Katherine the address and, when she arrived after her dinner-date, fielded the worried mother’s questions about what had happened and whether her son had been in any danger.  The three of them concocted a reasonably believable story about smelling gas, calling the gas company and being told to evacuate, and thankfully Jackson stayed asleep and didn’t start in with his “mons-tah crozzit” version of events.

 

#          #          #

 

With Katherine finally asleep, curled protectively around her oblivious child, Jennifer joined Sam and Dean in their room.  Dean was flipping through his father’s journal, and Sam was scouring the internet, searching for information on what might be infesting Katherine’s house.

 

“Okay, describe it for me again,” Jen said, pulling up a chair.

 

“We didn’t really get a good look at it,” said Sam.  “It kinda vanished as soon as we laid eyes on it.”

 

“It was small though,” put in Dean.

 

“Small as in: ‘eek, a mouse!’ small, or…?”

 

“No, more like the size of a small child: not much bigger than Jackson, actually.”

 

“With red eyes?”

 

“Oh yeah, bright red glowing eyes,” confirmed Dean.

 

Jennifer shook her head.  “How very…. evil-fairytale-creature.”  Then:  “So, what has evil red eyes, hides in a closet, scares children, but can’t be seen by adults?”

 

Sam and Dean looked at one another, and then a light seemed to dawn on their faces.  “The Bogeyman,” they said as one.

 

Sam turned to the laptop again, typed ‘bogeyman’ and hit ‘search’.

 

“Here we go… Czech bogeyman, _Bobak_ , translates to “Bag Man”, steals children, puts them in a sack, weaves souls on nights of the full moon and rides a cart pulled by cats…. Not really what we’re… Hang on… _El Cucuy_ …”

 

“Coo-coo-eee?” Dean echoed.

 

“Yeah, Mexican version of the bogeyman, said to have once been a mistreated child who is now neither alive nor dead, humanoid with glowing red eyes, hides under beds or in closets…” Sam raised his eyebrows, and then continued: “ _‘Originating from the Lincoln National Forest of New Mexico. Known for ferocity and stealthiness,_ El Cucuy _is feared by all children who know its evil name’_.” 

 

“That’s our ‘crozzit mons-tah’,” said Dean, closing John’s journal and scooting over to Sam.  “So how do we waste the sucker?”

 

Sam read on: _“Legend has it,_ El Cucuy _is difficult to kill as its soul is hidden apart from its body…”_  

 

“Like a Horcrux,” mused Jennifer.  Then, noting Sam and Dean’s identical bemused expressions, she said: “Like Harry Potter’s arch-enemy, Voldemort?  Not quite human anymore and almost immortal due to the fact that his soul is divided into seven parts and hidden in seven different objects – called Horcruxes?  Not ringing any bells, huh?”

 

“Nope,” said Sam.

 

“Still waiting for the movie to come out on that one,” said Dean.

 

Jennifer rolled her eyes.  “Neanderthals.”

 

“So all we have to do is find this… whore-crutch…?”  Asked Dean.

 

“Horcrux.”  Jen corrected.

 

“Horcrux, right.  All we have to do is find this object containing the soul of our little Mexican friend and it’s bye-bye bogeyman.”

 

“Which should be easy, given that the object could be absolutely anything,” Sam said dryly.  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. 

 

“Well, if it’s supposed to originate in the Lincoln National Forest of New Mexico, maybe someone Katherine knows has been there recently and brought back… I don’t know, a souvenir or something,” Jen suggested.

 

“Good thinking!  Go ask her,” urged Dean.

 

“I am _not_ waking her up now!  She’s just gotten to sleep, she’s worried sick there’s something wrong with her house and that Jackson’s been exposed to poisonous gas!”

 

“Jen, we gotta find out…” started Sam.

 

“We can find out in the morning,” Jennifer said.  “You said it yourself we can’t go back to that house tonight.  Kath’ll want to go back for clothes and things for Jackson in the morning anyway, we can go with her and you boys can ferret around for suspicious looking Mexican souvenirs.”

 

Neither Dean nor Sam looked satisfied with this plan, but neither could come up with any logical objections either, so Jennifer bade them goodnight and retired to the room she was sharing with Katherine and Jackson.

 

#          #          #

 

The next morning…

 

“Are you sure it’s safe?”  Asked Katherine as she unlocked the front door.

 

“Oh sure,” said Dean, offering her his most charming smile.  “The gas company shut off the connection last night, we’ll be right to just pop in and grab a few things.”

 

Jennifer caught Dean’s eye and nodded towards the living room, before following her friend up the stairs, ostensibly to help Katherine pack clothes for her and Jackson.  She didn’t believe they had anything to fear from the _Cucuy_ during the day, and they still had no idea what they could use to repel it anyway, but all three had decided neither Katherine nor Jackson should be left alone in the house at any time.  Jennifer had her .45 loaded with silver bullets tucked into the back of her jeans, and a small pure-iron dagger strapped to her ankle, just in case.  She held her breath as Katherine opened the closet to retrieve an overnight bag for Jackson, but no small, bloodthirsty, red-eyed bogey jumped out at them, and Katherine went about throwing clothes into the bag, humming as she went.  Jackson, equally, seemed unconcerned about the “crozzit mons-tah”.

 

They moved on to Katherine’s room, and Jennifer allowed her gaze to travel idly over the other woman’s knick knacks, scattered on her dressing table.  A carved, wooden egg caught her eye and she lifted it from the wooden bowl in which it had been placed.  The carvings looked oddly familiar.

 

“Hey Kath, where’d you get this egg-thing from?”  Jennifer asked, trying to keep her voice light.

 

“Oh, that thing, my mom brought it back from New Mexico last week,” Katherine said, poking her head out of her own walk-in closet.

 

“New Mexico,” said Jen.  “Not the Lincoln National Forest, by chance?”

 

“Yeah, that’s it!  Mom went on a little vacation with her new special friend,” Katherine rolled her eyes and laughed.  “Have you been, too?”

 

“No…” Jennifer said faintly.  She ran her fingernail over a regular groove that ran the circumference of the fattest part of the egg.  An opening?  Once Katherine disappeared into the closet again, she slipped the wooden egg into her jacket pocket.  “Hey, let me call one of the boys to help you with that thing!”  She said as Katherine reached up for a suitcase on the top shelf.  “Hey guys!  Can we get someone tall up here?!”

 

Sam appeared at the landing and she pointed him in the direction of Katherine’s bedroom, loudly telling him what was needed while silently showing him the egg.  Sam nodded back down the stairs and went to help Katherine.

 

Jennifer found Dean running his hand over a bookcase, muttering to himself.  “Don’t bother,” she told him.  “I think I found it.”

 

She handed him the egg, and he immediately found the groove.

 

“I think I can…” he started, digging his thumbnail into what looked like a hinge.

 

“Don’t open it here!”  Jennifer squeaked, and Dean gave her his “dude, I’m not a moron” look.

 

Sam, speaking in an overly loud voice, heralded Katherine’s approach down the stairs, and Dean slipped the wooden egg into his own pocket.

 

“Now,” said Katherine.  “I gotta run, guys, I’m already late for work and I still gotta drop Jackson at my mom’s house…”

 

“Oh, we can take Jackson,” Jennifer offered brightly, ignoring the quizzical looks both Sam and Dean were shooting her.

 

Katherine seemed to sag with relief.  “I owe you again, Jenny!”  She said.  “You remember where she lives?”

 

“Yup!  Just… have a good day at work.”

 

“Oh, and the gas company…?”

 

“We gave them my cell number,” Jen lied smoothly.  “We’ll just stick around town until it all gets sorted out!”

 

#          #          #

 

Dean watched Jennifer from the door as she waved Katherine goodbye.  With Jackson snugged cosily on one hip she could have been his mother.  Dressed in denim cut-offs, a man’s size XS t-shirt and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a loose bun to keep it out of the way, she could have been any random, young mother.  She looked beautiful, competent, responsible and caring, older than her years and at the same time so very, very young and vulnerable.  Dean felt a tightening in his chest as he watched her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and laugh and tickle the blond child until he giggled and squirmed to be let down.

 

As she made her way back up the walk, he said:  “You wanna explain to me why we’re taking the kid to his grandma’s?”

 

“Apart from the fact that she’s an old friend, too?”  Jennifer asked.  “Katherine’s mom was the one who brought that wooden artifact you’ve got in your pocket back from New Mexico.  Maybe she knows something about it.”

 

“Good work,” said Dean, clearly impressed.  He turned to Sam and said:  “I knew there was a reason we kept this one around!”

 

“I know the reason _you_ keep her around…” Sam muttered, and Jennifer stuck her tongue out at him.

 

#          #          #

 

Katherine’s mother, Patsy, welcomed Jennifer as warmly as her daughter had, and ushered the three of them, plus Jackson, into her home.  After exchanging the usual pleasantries and fielding the “so, what have you been up to?” questions, Jen casually asked about Patsy’s recent trip to the Lincoln National Forest.

 

“Oh, Kathy mentioned that, did she?”  Patsy said, her eyes twinkling.

 

“She said you’d gone on vacation with a special friend…” Jennifer ventured, and Patsy cackled.

 

“Special friend!  I like that!”  Then, noting their bemused expressions, she added:  “ ‘Special friend’ is my daughter’s subtle way of saying she doesn’t approve of her mother becoming an old dyke!”

 

A glance at their shocked expressions threw Patsy into gales of laughter.  “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Jenny, you know men have never been my favourite creatures!  Present company excepted, of course,” she nodded to Jennifer’s traveling companions.

 

Jennifer recovered quickly, smiling, and said:  “I’m sure Katherine doesn’t…”

 

“Oh poo!”  Patsy exclaimed, flapping her hand at Jennifer.  “I don’t care what she thinks anyway – I’m happy!”

 

“Well, that’s the important thing,” smiled Dean, trying to hurry the process along.  “So, did you pick up any interesting… souvenirs… while you were on vacation?  I noticed a carved wooden egg at Katherine’s house…”

 

“Oh yes,” said Patsy.  “I bought that thing from a roadside vendor.  He said it contained the soul of a demon! “  She widened her eyes for effect.  “Bunch of baloney if you ask me, but I thought it looked a bit more interesting than those hideous ‘my mom visited Lincoln National Forest, and all I got was this t-shirt’ t-shirts!”

 

“You say you bought it from a roadside vendor?”  Sam asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

 

“Yeah, funny looking guy,” mused Patsy, sipping her coffee.  “Had these weird, yella eyes.”

 

“Yellow, like he had a liver problem, you mean?”

 

“Naw, yella like a dog’s eyes.  You know, where the coloured part is?  His were yella.”

 

“That _is_ weird,” said Dean gravely.  He shot Sam a knowing glance when Patsy wasn’t looking.  “You didn’t bring anything home for yourself then?”

 

“Naw,” said Patsy again.  “Took some photos, that’s all the souvenirs I need.”

 

Jennifer swallowed and uttered a silent ‘thank you’ that they weren’t going to have to fight any demons in this house as well as Katherine’s.  “So, did you tell this weird-eyed vendor you were looking for something for your daughter?”  She asked.

 

Patsy frowned.  “I did, as a matter of fact…  Why all the questions about a silly little souvenir?”

 

“No reason,” said Dean, charming smile flashing before he remembered it probably wouldn’t have any effect on Patsy.  He signaled Jennifer and Sam with his eyes and lifted his chin towards the door.

 

“Anyway, Patsy, it was lovely seeing you again,” said Jennifer, standing up.  “We were just stopping to drop Jackson off for Katherine; we’d better leave you to it…”

 

“Will you be in town for a few days?”  Asked Patsy, showing them to the door.

 

“Looks like it,” said Jen.

 

#          #          #

 

“So, this thing’s been in the house with Katherine and Jackson for a week,” said Jennifer, looking pale.

 

“I wonder why hasn’t it attacked anyone yet.”  Said Sam.

 

“Maybe last night was the first night Jackson didn’t go to sleep straight away,” suggested Dean.  Catching their confused expression, he went on:  “well, we didn’t exactly have a normal childhood so I can’t speak from experience, but aren’t kids threatened with the bogeyman if they don’t go to sleep at a decent hour?  Maybe that part of the legend is true – the _Cucuy_ doesn’t come out and attack unless children are naughty and don’t fall asleep straight away.”

 

“Good point,” said Jennifer. “Jackson’s routine was disrupted last night because we were there; it stands to reason he didn’t just go off to sleep like the angel he’s supposed to be.”

 

“Either way, we need to kill the evil little son-of-a-bitch before Katherine and Jackson get back tonight,” said Dean, and he pulled the wooden egg from his pocket.  “Which means torching this sucker.”

 

“You think that’ll do the job?”

 

“Destroy the soul-object, destroy the bogeyman, right?”

 

“What about that yellow-eyed street vendor?”  Sam put in.  They were walking back down the street toward where the Impala was parked.  “That sounds like demonic possession to me.”

 

“So a demon deliberately set this _Cucuy_ on Katherine and Jackson?”  Dean asked.  Sam shrugged.  “It’s possible.”

 

“I don’t like it,” said Sam.

 

“I don’t like it either, dude, but what can we do?”  He opened the door of the Impala and slid behind the wheel.  Waiting until the others joined him, he went on:  “What we _can_ do, is burn this whore-crutch…”

 

“Horcrux, Dean,” sighed Jennifer.

 

“Right, burn this _horcrux_ to a crisp.”

 

#          #          #

 

Standing in a triangle in Katherine’s dusty back yard, they did just that.  The dense wood of the little egg, and the dish it came in, took most of the afternoon to burn down to ashes.

 

Sam, Dean and Jennifer looked at one another soberly.

 

“We ought to stay on tonight,” Sam said.  “Just in case.”

 

#          #          #

 

“I’m glad you were able to stick around so I could give you a proper home cooked meal,” smiled Katherine, including them all but directing her words at Sam.  Dean smirked at him behind her back, he expression saying “yeah, I’ll bet that’s not _all_ she could give you, dude.”

 

Sam directed his own “get you mind out of the gutter” look at Dean before smiling back at Katherine and saying:  “Well, thank _you_ for having us.  This is great stew by the way.”

 

“It’s fantastic,” agreed Dean, helping himself to seconds.  He turned to Jennifer and said:  “how come you don’t make stew like this?”

 

Jen raised her eyebrows at him.  “Two reasons,” she said tartly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.  Number one, we live out of motel rooms,” she pointed out.  “Most of them don’t exactly have stew-cooking facilities.”

 

Dean nodded his acquiescence, chewing thoughtfully.  “Fair enough.  And number two?”

 

“Number two, last time I checked I wasn’t your wife, and therefore not required to cook for you.”

 

Katherine and Sam glanced back at Dean for his come-back line.

 

“Huh,” he said.  “And why is that, by the way?”

 

“Why is what?”  Asked Jen.

 

“Why aren’t you my wife?”

 

Jennifer’s eyes popped, but she recovered gracefully.  “Because you never asked me, for starters.”

 

“Ah gees, the man still has to ask these days?”  Sighed Dean in mock resignation.

 

“They do if it’s me,” Jen told him.

 

“Okay.”  Said Dean.  “Will you marry me, Jen?”

 

Both Katherine and Sam’s eyes flicked back to Jennifer.  They were beginning to look as though they were watching a tennis match.

 

Jennifer rolled her eyes.  “That is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, Dean Winchester.”  She said.  “And that’s saying something.”

 

Katherine and Sam glanced back at Dean as he opened his mouth to retort, when an earsplitting shriek from above diverted their attention.

 

“Jackson!”  Katherine squeaked, the blood draining from her face.  Darting a single terrified look in Jennifer’s direction, she said: “he never screams like that!” and disappeared from the room.  The other three dropped their cutlery and bolted after her.

 

Racing down the hallway, the lights flickering, they caught up with Katherine just as she opened the nursery door.  She scooped the shrieking child from his cot and held him to her.  From the open closet there emitted an unearthly hissing noise, and they all turned automatically in that direction before Sam yelled:  “Stop!  Don’t look at it directly!”

“I don’t understand!  We barbecued that wooden thing – and the dish it was sitting in!”  Said Dean, herding the others into the opposite corner of the room.

 

“Then it mustn’t have been the soul-object,” replied Sam.  “It must be something else.”

 

“It can’t be!”   Reasoned Jennifer.  “That’s what Katherine’s mom brought back from New Mexico… Unless…”

 

“What?  Any information you’ve got would be really welcome right about now!”  Cut in Dean

 

“There was a groove in that egg, remember?”

 

“Like an opening.  Damnit Jen, you shouldn’t have stopped me from opening it!”

 

“How was I supposed to know there was something else inside?”  Cried Jen.  “I thought if you opened the stupid thing, it’d wake the _Cucuy_ up in broad daylight!  Anyway, I _know_ you didn’t think it was a good idea to open it then and there…”

 

“I know, I know,” Dean snapped.  “So if it’s not the egg…”

 

“What if there was something _inside_ the egg?  Something that wasn’t destroyed by the fire.  What if the _real_ soul-object….”

 

Dean was already moving towards the door, with Sam at his heels.  “Stay with them,” he told Jennifer, and disappeared down the stairs and into the night.

 

“Will someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on here?!”  Katherine demanded, cradling her sobbing child.  She started to turn towards the closet and Jennifer stopped her.

 

“No!  Don’t look right at it, it’ll disappear!”  Jen warned her.

 

“And the problem with that would be…?”

 

“We won’t be able to see it – it’d still exist but we wouldn’t know where it was.  Only Jackson can look right at it.”

 

“But why…”

 

“There’s no time to explain!  Just… keep it in your peripheral vision so we know where it is.  But don’t look right at it.”

 

#          #          #

 

Outside in the yard, Sam and Dean ran their flash-lights over the dusty ground, searching for the pile of ashes.

 

“Here!  Over here!”  Dean called.  He stooped down and began sifting the ashes between his fingers.  “This is so stupid, why didn’t I open the damned egg…. Argh!”  He yanked his hand out of the ashes and held it in the torchlight.  Blood welled on the pad of his forefinger.  “What the…?”

 

Sam reached gingerly into the ashes and drew out a sliver of metal.  It had been blackened by the fire, but was otherwise unharmed.  He rubbed his thumb over the surface, which gleamed yellow in the torch-light.  A golden needle.

 

“Son of a _bitch!”_   Swore Dean, shaking his wounded hand and splattering the dusty ground with droplets of blood.

 

“What’s the melting temperature of gold?”  Asked Sam.

 

“What is this, Final Jeopardy?  How the hell should I know?!”

 

Sam stared back towards the house, his eyes narrowed.  He ran the flashlight beam along the outer wall, close to the ground.  “These old places usually have a basement…” he murmured.  “Bingo!”

 

#          #          #

 

Jennifer placed herself between the _Cucuy_ and her friend, trying to keep an eye on its position while not looking at it directly.  The creature hissed like a scalded cat and slashed at her with its tiny, razor-sharp claws.  Dancing sideways out of its range, Jen thought she’d avoided being scratched until she felt her own warm blood trickle down her ankle and soak into her sock.  Damn, that thing was fast, she thought.  And its claws were clearly so sharp she hadn’t even felt them biting into her flesh, it had been like a hot knife through butter.

 

Katherine let out a little shriek as the thing hissed and slashed again.  It darted forward, snapping its pointed teeth, and it was all Jen could do not to plant her sneaker in its snarling face and kick it into next week.  What the hell was taking those two so long?

 

#          #          #

 

Sam hit at the rusted lock holding the basement storm-doors together with the butt of his torch, but it was obviously a lot stronger than it looked.

 

“Sammy!  Stand back!”  Dean drew his gun and shot at the lock, hitting it dead-centre and sending the warped lump of metal flying.  They ran down the stairs and flinched back as the old furnace roared into life.

 

“Good timing,” shouted Dean over the noise.  He located a bundle of rags and used them to open the furnace’s wrought-iron and tempered glass door.  Sam threw the sliver of gold into the leaping flames and jumped back as his brother kicked the door closed.  Breathing hard and sweating next to the broiling furnace, they watched as the flames licked around the needle.  It held its shape for nearly a minute, long enough that Plan B was beginning to look like an option (whatever Plan B is, Dean thought dimly), and then it melted, losing its shape quickly and becoming a greasy smear amid the gas jets.

 

Sam and Dean let out the collective breath they were holding, and simultaneously raised their eyes to the ceiling.

 

#          #          #

 

“Jenny!”  Katherine shrieked as the _Cucuy_ lunged at them for a third time.  Jennifer sprang back, knocking the other woman off her feet and sending Jackson flying.  Without meaning to, she looked directly at the creature and had time to burn the image of its glowing red eyes and mouthful of needle-pointed teeth into her mind forever.  Scrambling backwards, Jen watched in horror and relief as the thing burst into flame and, howling, disappeared, leaving only a greasy stain on the floorboards of Jackson’s bedroom.

 

Jackson, whose crying had dissolved into random sobs before he was unceremoniously knocked out of his mothers arms, was emitting a lusty and indignant howl of his own.  Katherine was sitting on the floor, rocking him in her arms and smoothing his hair over a bump that was already rising at the back of his head.  She shushed and crooned to him until he quietened and started looking around the room, his bumped head forgotten.

 

“Where monstah?”  He asked, raising his chubby hands in the universal gesture of query.  Jennifer laughed in spite of herself.

 

“Monster all gone!”  She told him, tickling under his chin to make him giggle.  She met Katherine’s gaze and knew that the “monster” would be around, if only in her nightmares, for a long time yet.

 

#          #          #

 

“Hold still, babe,” Dean said, splashing the contents of a silver flask over the deep scratches in Jennifer’s leg.  The fluid hissed and bubbled and Jen drew a breath in sharply, digging her fingers into the sofa cushion.  Dean flinched in sympathy, and poured more fluid onto her leg, allowing it to wash away the blood and foam.

 

“What are you using there, Dean, battery acid?”  Asked Katherine as she watched Dean tend to Jen’s wounds.

 

“Holy water,” said Jen through gritted teeth.

 

“Holy water?”  Katherine exclaimed.  “Who _are_ you people?”

 

“This is… kinda what we do,” Jennifer gasped, eyes closed in agony as the water did its job.

 

“You fight off monsters and clean up afterwards with Holy Water?”  Katherine summarized.

 

“That’s about the long and the short of it, yeah,” said Dean, flashing a smile in her direction and then turning his attention back to Jennifer.  “I think that’ll do it… I hope that’ll do it anyway.  We’ll have to keep an eye on it, who knows what sort of filthy germs a thing like that carries.  Wouldn’t want to have to amputate.” 

 

Jennifer smirked and pressed a cotton pad against the still-oozing scratches.  She secured it with medical tape and, standing, tested her weight on the injured leg.  She turned to the others and said:  “What’s say we head back to the motel for the night?” 

 

“Don’t have to ask me twice’, said Katherine, hoisting Jackson onto her hip.  “I ain’t staying another night in _this_ place.”

 

#          #          #

 

The next morning, Katherine hugged her friend as she saw them off.  She said:  “I don’t really understand what happened last night, Jenny.  It all just seems like a bad dream.  But I do know that you saved my son’s life…” she turned to include Sam and Dean.  “You all did.  I’m in your debt.”

 

“Aw, no,” said Dean, shuffling his feet.  “Like Jen said, it’s what we do.”

 

Sam took Katherine’s hand and made her look at him.  “Katherine, we have reason to believe someone sent that creature to your deliberately,” he said seriously.  “Your mom told us about a man with yellow eyes…”

 

“I don’t understa…”

 

“I know you don’t, but listen to me carefully.  If you ever come across a man, or a woman, it could be a woman, who doesn’t seem right, who seems to know too much about you and Jackson, or who has those yellow eyes – get your mom to describe them to you – if you see anything like that or if anything like what happened last night happens again, call us.”  He pressed a slip of paper into her hand.  “We can help.”

 

Katherine nodded mutely, her eyes large and frightened.

 

In the strengthening morning light, the young mother waved as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot, and headed west towards the interstate.

 

“Say bye-bye, Jackson,” she said softly.

 

The child waved his little hand at the receding car.  “Bye-bye,” he called.

 


End file.
